Kingdom of Music
by N.S.L. Jewelles
Summary: Christine, a young fantasizing princess, is put in her sister's place, set to perform for what could be her future husband, but the spirit who was her guide has other plans...RC, eventual EC
1. Lament of the Forgotten Princess

**Hello, my pretties…I'M BACK! I have high hopes for this story, though it is, for the most part, still in the planning stages. I hope you enjoy it…review! Love, Jewelles**

**Chapter_ One – Lament of the Forgotten Princess_**

I had never felt so guilty in my life, however short, and it wasn't even my fault. It wasn't because of me that my older sister was deteriorating before the nation's very eyes. It wasn't my existence that made the physicians clueless as to how to handle the situation. And it was certainly not my doing that they all should ignore me. Well, maybe I should start at the beginning.

I say these things weren't my fault, and they certainly could not be blamed upon me, but from birth I was the scapegoat, and not of my own doing. There was doted-upon, uniquely beautiful Carla above me, the one who would one day rule the nation should there be no son; there was not. I was supposed to be the male child, the heir, but the old wives' tales about how a woman carrying a child should determine their gender failed; I was born a girl.

My mother, Queen Maria, passed away nearly two years after my birth, and my father had me sequestered in my own quarters, deeming me a curse. None but the maids came near me, for fear that I would sweep death upon them as I did my own mother, and after they left me they would purify themselves in steaming baths, then sanitize the tubs many times over. Only the little serving girl Marguerite, who was just my age, dared to approach me of her own volition, and we soon became friends. Her mother, who had been my mother's lady-in-waiting, kept the friendship to herself, and soon she, too, turned into an ally.

Father, King Gustav Lefevre the Third, never remarried, and he passed on a few years after my mother, when I was closing in on eight years and Carla on eleven. I was not devastated, but my older sister was; she had never had a liking for our uncle Franz and his wife Andréa, and them becoming our guardians was most unwelcome to us both.

As much as Carla and I loathed one another to the very core, the combined death of our father and the guardianship of our aunt and uncle brought us to a mutual agreement; she was the princess, I was the unimportant little sister, and that was the way it was. It didn't bother me; I was used to it like nothing else. Marguerite was a help; I learned to spend time in the servants' quarters with her and her mother, who I had grown to know as my own.

Antoinette was not only mother to Marguerite and lady-in-waiting to my late mother, but she was a world-renowned ballerina and was not afraid to show off her power and prowess. On warm evenings in the summer, she would sneak Marguerite and me out onto the lawns of the palace and teach us to dance. Marguerite caught on right away, and it took me a little longer, but it was not long before we were pirouetting like we'd been born doing it.

It was after one of those excursions with Antoinette and Marguerite that I came across the little chapel in the cellars. It was not unused, and was probably where the servants went to pray when they found a spare moment. There was a decently-sized candelabra, the candles half-melted, and an elegant cross, all in front of a fresco on the wall depicting the Virgin Mary.

I do not pretend to be particularly religious, and I surely wouldn't be if I was not obliged to by my status, but the room felt special in some way. Though I was only around nine at the time, I couldn't help but think that the chapel possessed a special power because those who did not have much to hope for, being servants, would use it and still have faith. I was a fantasizing little girl, that I know, but as I sat down in this seemingly magical chapel, I truly believed that I would bring myself closer to my dear sweet mother, and even my father.

As I started chanting in Latin, as the priest had taught me, I lit the candles and made the sign of the Cross. Hoping that this unnatural aura around the room would be my help, I asked the Lord to bring my parents back to me, to send me a sign, something that would help me get through the days. I was not asking for much, only a sign. And it came.

I had started to visit the chapel regularly after time with Marguerite, and nobody yet knew about it but me. On a snowy evening in early winter of that year, I stopped by the chapel on my way up to the main floors of the palace. It was quite cold in the servants' quarters, and predictably so, but it was still unnerving, and as I knelt upon the frigid stone I felt a sudden pang of guilt for being there, dressed in some of the warmest clothes the kingdom could offer.

My guilt aside, I made the sign of the Cross, lit the candles, and begged Mary for help, begged her for a reason to live. "I do not love much," I said quietly, "but I love music. Uncle Franz forbids me anything I find pleasure in, Holy Mother, but I beg for a chance to sing. It is the only thing I truly love besides Marguerite and Antoinette. Please, Holy Mother, I do not want this life any longer. I want…"

Young voice trailing off, I looked around the room. Nothing was visibly different, but it felt as though the divine power in the room was shifting. The candles suddenly flickered out, and I stifled a scream, not wanting to bother any of the servants. All of my limbs were shaking as I backed up, trying to leave the room. A booming voice said otherwise.

"_Little princess, why do you cry?_" The deep voice clearly belonged to a man, though there was no man about the palace with a voice of the same quality. This sound shook me to my very core, and I was drawn to it, even at a mere nine years old.

"Who…who are you?" I had stuttered, stumbling around to the door, wanting to leave but holding back.

"_Do you not know me, little princess? I am the Angel of Music, sent to guide you._" This announcement, however intriguing, scared me as nothing had before. I was a defenseless, clueless little girl, and the thought of a grown man's voice saying it belonged to an angel…to say the least, I was terrified, and I'm sure anyone else in my position would have been. "_Dry your tears, little princess, and sing for the Angel_."

That request of this Angel of Music was the most forward thing any person had ever asked of me. I was a princess, if only an unimportant one, and people were not supposed to ask me to do things such as sing for them if they were looking to be proper. Nonetheless, an angel was an angel and must be treated as such, so I sang. There weren't many songs that I knew, only the few that Antoinette had sung to Marguerite and me during thunderstorms, trying to calm us and put us into easy sleep. I decided upon a lullaby Antoinette had once sung, and began to sing.

As a nine-year-old, I knew nothing about music beyond what Antoinette had told me, and I started the piece much too high for my own good. I nearly started crying when I screeched on the high notes, and the Angel's soothing voice calmed me. "_There, there, little princess, do not despair. Come down here every other eve and I will teach you to sing. But tell no one,_" he warned, "_not even your dear friend Marguerite or her mother._"

"Yes…Angel," I replied, scurrying from the chapel. And so I began to take singing lessons from the Angel of Music, and I was soon learning everything from proper warm-up exercises to the most helpful singing techniques, to the different keys, scales, and notation. By the time I was twelve, I was enchanting the maids, butlers, and other servants, who now, since my father's death, dared to come close to me, with short arias I would sing at random. It was not long after this that Antoinette became suspicious of me.

I promised dear Antoinette that I was not doing anything out of the ordinary, that I was practicing singing in my room and asking some of the visiting entertainers to the palace about technique and different songs. She no longer bothered me about it, but, on occasion, she would come by my room at night when I sang, listening. This all came out in the open, however, when I was fifteen, and a visiting Comte and his son were coming to the palace and Franz and Andréa began preparing for a performance. Naturally, they wanted to showcase Carla so one day the Comte's son would take her as a wife, but, as I had been learning from the Angel for over three years, some were talented musically and some were not. Carla was certainly the latter.

Andréa was determined to marry Carla off to the young Vicomte and practically ignored me for the weeks preceding their visit. I told the Angel of this, and he seemed extremely displeased, saying to me that my sister, who I did not hold in high esteem, but who I watched out for, was, "a toad" and "would never catch a decent husband." I did not contradict the Angel, but it was becoming apparent to me that this Angel was focused on one thing and one thing alone; my success.

It was a foreign feeling to me, being the center of someone's efforts, and the Angel's determination to help me come out on top was almost daunting. I was no longer frightened by him, as I had been training for upwards of six years in the chapel beneath the palace, but I suddenly saw his teachings in a new light, that the sole purpose was for something far greater than just pleasing me by teaching me to sing.

So I told the Angel that Carla could have the Vicomte, that I did not want him and did not care if she got the chance to show off her voice and I did not. That, however, was a full-bodied mistake, every bit of it. Simply testing the Angel's hopes for me had snapped a nerve instead, and he screamed at me that I should give a damn about my future and not settle for the lowly position I was pushed to within the royal family. "_You,_" he'd told me, "_could be Prima Donna of the greatest operas, could be the greatest queen in a century if given the chance, and yet you settle for the spot beneath that toad sister of yours!_"

Not bothering to stop and beg forgiveness, I had run from the chapel, past a confused Marguerite, and out the back door of the servants' quarters, needing to get away. It was not my first time going out into the town, but I was foreign to it, to the world beyond the palace. I didn't expect much, and I was sure that I would not be out long, just enough time to clear my head.

It was when I made a wrong turn that things turned sour. The alleyways in the town were not the kind you could just walk through and be done with it. They were twisting, turning, seemingly never-ending and dangerous as Hell itself. One could meet their death in one of the alleyways in the town, and when I found myself in one of them I nearly wanted to die on the spot.

Now, I am not a lazy girl, nor am I ignorant, but I suppose that getting into the alleyways had to do with that I thought many of them were streets, and by the time I figured it out I was too far in to even fathom finding a way out on my own. The only thing to do, it seemed, was to wait for someone honorable to find me, but in the alleyways that was about as likely as seeing a horse fly.

Nonetheless, I sat down in a little corner of one of the alleys and started to cry, not because I was in a place where someone could walk by you as fast as they could rape you, and not because I was alone, because I was used to that, as I had been used to it for thirteen years, but because I felt, for the first time in my life, foreign. I had grown up a princess, and everybody knew me and who I was, even if they did not want to. In the alleyways, I was a nobody.

My crying started attracting attention and I grew scared, terrified that the wrong person would find me and I would be mistaken for a poor girl to be taken advantage of. Unfortunately, thinking of that made my thoughts drift to the chapel and the Angel, who had told me to take my rightful place of importance, not to be second-best, and those thoughts made me cry harder.

"Excuse me, Miss?" There was a voice in the alleyway, just in front of me, and I didn't want to move to answer it, even though it sounded well-bred, even aristocratic. "Miss, I am here to help, I swear." I bit my lip and looked up and my eyes locked with a most amazing pair of blue orbs, glistening in the dim light. "Let me help you up," he said kindly, taking my hand and helping me to my feet. It was a most unusual feeling; I had never truly been touched by a man before, as no man at any of the various galas and balls Franz and Andréa held at the palace would want to dance with me. His hands were large and warm but perfect, showing that he was no street child, that he was nobility.

Standing up, I smoothed out my long day dress, dirty from the floor of the alleyway and turned to see the man staring at me. We caught each other's gaze for a moment before he said, "Excuse me for not introducing myself," he said, a little flustered. "I am Raoul. And yourself?" Raoul certainly proved his noble status by taking my hand and kissing the back of it gently, as though he'd been taught, which I was sure he had been.

I could not give this man my real name. If my aunt or uncle found out I'd been away from the palace there would certainly be hell to pay and with the upcoming festivities for the Comte I did not want to cause trouble. "My name is Lotté," I said, referring to the name of one of the scullery maids at Franz's country estate, "and I am pleased to make your…" There were sounds of a scuffle from somewhere around us in the alleyways and Raoul grabbed my hand, pulling me down path after path until we reached the sunlight.

"You were saying?" he panted, slightly tired from hurrying through the alleyways. I admired the way his blue eyes twinkled in the sun, the way his gold hair, pulled back by a tiny ribbon from his neck, seemed to shine like something metallic, and how his body, though of noble descent, looked strong and trained. "Lotté?"

"Oh!" I say, startled by his words, mortified that he saw me staring. "I was saying that I was pleased to make your acquaintance, Raoul," I said, curtsying most beautifully, at least beautiful for being on a dusty street in a plain dress. The thoughts on curtsying, however, lent themselves into thoughts of propriety, which, in turn, led me into thinking about my royal status, and I quickly started in the direction of the palace, anxious to make it back before anybody, royal or servant, noticed my absence. "I must go! I'm needed at home," I hastily told Raoul before running off, which was very unladylike of me. Returning back to the palace, however, proved to be even more of a predicament than I could have bargained for.

I had gone down the servants' quarters early that morning while Carla was practicing her performing with Andréa and had spent time with Marguerite and Antoinette before going to the chapel and then out to the city. This hadn't left any time up on the main floors of the palace and, though goings-on in my own home truly were not my concern, they were most interesting when I was not there. That day was no exception to this, which I soon found out.

During Carla's lessons, she had been singing and dancing, performing her heart out, when she'd suddenly fallen to the floor. Andréa, terrified beyond all reason, had called Franz who immediately summoned the physicians of the palace. They hurried my sister off to a secluded room where they checked her over, and no more did I know. That much I'd learned from Rene, Franz's personal assistant, but it was enough to get me on edge, and I quickly wound my way up staircases to the floor he'd directed me to.

As I have mentioned, my sister is not even close to the top of my list of priorities, but, being my sister, I made allowances. If she was in trouble, I would have to stand up for her, though she probably didn't reciprocate that philosophy when it came to me. Of course, if she was hurt I would have to worry about her, and the sight of Andréa crying at the top of the stairs made me worry I'd have to act upon the ideals regarding sisterhood that I didn't much like to.

After much sobbing from Andréa, stuttering from Franz, and questions from me, I'd gleaned enough information to know that Carla's collapse was a disease dealing in the body's ability to produce energy, and it was debilitating, the physicians did not know enough to help her, and the arrangements for a possible union between my sister and the Vicomte were certain to fall out.

I couldn't take it. I simply could not take it, and, when Franz and Andréa were allowed in to see Carla, I went with all of my speed down to the servants' quarters where I sought Antoinette and Marguerite. They usually felt the same about Carla and royalty in general as I did, but Antoinette was soon walking up the flights of stairs at a brisk pace, Marguerite and I following in her wake, bewildered. Once at Carla's room, Antoinette pulled Franz and Andréa aside, and neither Marguerite nor I could hear what they were saying.

Not a minute after Antoinette had begun her conversation did it end, and Franz said to me, "Come here, Christine." I could not budge, afraid of what was destined to happen to me if my uncle got a hold of me while such a family crisis was in play. His disapproval of me would not go as far as to hurt me, but the emotional distress he and my aunt were under was considerable and having their misfit niece suddenly be of importance was a strain on them I didn't want to engage.

Curtsying before my uncle, the king, I said, "My king, what is it you ask of me?" I saw Franz glance at his wife, who nodded solemnly. Antoinette was watching on from a respectful distance, and I saw Marguerite appear at her shoulder, looking just as nervous as I felt.

"Christine, Antoinette has informed us that you are a more respectable child than you put on." I did not know how to respond to that, not knowing whether it was meant to be an insult or a compliment. "She says that you are a talented singer and dancer, and that you are a lovely girl." I had the distinct urge to tell Franz exactly what I thought about that, how he would never know if I was "lovely" otherwise because of the stereotype of me set by my father. However, I did not. "Christine, you know that your sister is in no condition to perform next week, nor will she be a suitable wife for the Vicomte, should he choose to take the hand of a princess. That is why, Christine, Antoinette has advised us to put you in her place." Guilt swept over me; take my sister's place? Do what she meant to? Fulfill my destiny as princess? Succeed in what I'd always dreamt of?

And that, I do believe, was just the beginning.

6


	2. Angels and Daemons

**I've been working for a while on this chapter, trying to get over writer's block, and I finally pulled Chapter Two together today…enjoy!**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Two – Angels and Daemons**_

After that, everything seemed to be about me and my future. While Carla was confined to bed, furious and hurting, I was being taught by Andréa's ladies-in-waiting the more advanced arts of conversation, ballroom dance and etiquette. My singing voice, my aunt concluded, was impeccable and she said that I showed a remarkable "natural talent" for the art; how wrong she was.

What puzzled me most in those tedious weeks of study was how Antoinette could have found reason enough for Franz to put me in Carla's place as a prospective bride for the Vicomte. It could not have been my ballet, for no man in his right mind gave a damn whether or not his wife-to-be was a skilled ballerina, and I was sure that she had not heard me sing enough to think that that would rope in a husband. It confused me ever-more at how she'd found more reasons that artistry that had been convincing to my aunt and uncle, as there was not much more I participated in around her. I was always off with Marguerite, and dancing was just about the only time I spent with Antoinette herself.

Unfortunately, the new need for me to hang onto my aunt's every word due to the risk of me, God forbid, not being taken by the Vicomte meant less time to myself, and that, consequently, meant less time with the Angel, if at all. There was no chance that I could sneak down into the chapel, not without Franz or Andréa, or even Antoinette, taking notice. My importance as of late led to my every move being watched. As one who had grown up all but invisible, this new experience of being watched was more unnerving than anything I'd felt before.

What was more, I found myself growing nervous about the Comte's visit. Of course I had no interest as of late in the young Vicomte whose bride I would surely be, but that did not stop me from wondering about him; would he be handsome? Hideous? Kind? Odious? Worthy of my hand and love? It was these questions that usually caused my mind to wander during my lessons, and it earned me more than a few warnings from Andréa's lady-in-waiting Samantha, who was tutoring me on proper conversational skills.

There were days when I could not take it, days when I only wished that I could run out of lessons and down to the chapel to visit with the Angel and explain away my lengthy and unexcused absence. From what he had said with regard to my future, I knew well that he could not be considerably angry since I was, in fact, fulfilling my destiny, but I still felt undeniably guilty. The Angel had done so much for me, given me my wish of song and the feeling of being cared for that I had so lacked, and it was certainly my duty to thank him, at least acknowledge him. But, what with lessons and visits from countless seamstresses and hairdressers and the requirement of dining with my aunt and uncle every evening, I had not the time with which to do so.

I saw very little of Marguerite and Antoinette as well, due in part to the daunting schedule I've mentioned but, surprisingly, due to my aunt. Andréa, though she regarded Antoinette as the strong and helpful woman she was, could not bring herself in her noble mind to lend me even a few minutes to visit with servants, however kindly and worthy they were. It was simply not done, something I had to learn, and, with the Comte and Vicomte's impending visit, she could not have me breaking royal standards.

Over dinner one evening, Franz brought this up with me. "Christine, dear, why is it that you so long to visit with Antoinette and her…oh, what's the girl's name? Melissa? Margaret?"

"Marguerite," I said firmly, never glancing up from my meal, trying desperately to ignore my uncle. Though I was well aware that he did not care one bit for any of the servants, it was nonetheless insulting to Marguerite that he would attempt to name her, only to fail miserably and embarrass himself in the attempt.

"Ah," Franz answered, feigning interest, "I see. Well then? What is your answer? Why do these servants intrigue you so?" I shot an angry stare at Franz, pausing and placing my utensils upon my plate. The miserable old fool could not guess that he was the reason I was fraternizing with those of a lowlier position than mine? Not to mention that they were kind when the world had not been helpful!

"Do you truly wish to know, uncle?" I questioned him, using my most proper voice. "I daresay, if you wish to then I absolutely must! To turn down the king? I would not dare such an act!"

"Get on with it, Christine," Andréa intruded from across the table. "You're going to give yourself a miserable headache if you carry on."

"Very well, my aunt," I replied, nodding in her direction and rising from my seat, ignoring one of the attendants waiting to pull my chair out for me. Staring and Franz all the while, I said, "If you had not noticed, uncle, I was not exactly _welcome_ here, was I? Was there ever a moment when I meant something to you, either of you? I was ne'er more than a pest, a stubborn wart that will simply not go away. Antoinette and _Marguerite,_" I continued, emphasizing the name, "were there for me when I needed them most. They cared for me like nobody had and you dare ask me _why_ I wish to be with them more than I do you?" Andréa's audible gasp and Franz's widening eyes only fueled my anger. "You are a wicked old hypocrite, asking me why I would ever want to spend time with the servants, Franz!"

"You will not address me in that tone!" Franz shouted back, standing and banging his fists on the table causing all of the dishes to jump.

"Why shan't I?" my voice was more biting than I cared to realize as I said that. "Can you not admit that it is true that I was well ignored all these years? You can give me that much!" My chest was heaving up and down, confined by the tight cage of my corset.

"I'll have no more of this!" my uncle screamed, raising a hand as if to slap me if he were nearer. "You will treat me as your elder, as you would a father, and as your king!" he snapped, fuming, his face turning a bright shade of red. "I have raised you, I have loved you as my daughter…"

"You rotten hypocrite!" I retaliated, my heart racing. "You can no more call me your daughter than you can your own wife!"

"Christine!" Andréa cried in a most cultured voice though the current situation certainly did not call for it.

"You call yourself a king and a father when you're nothing more than a loathsome, slimy…" Before I could finish my statement, Franz had come to my side and slapped me harshly across the face as I was sure he'd intended to do when he raised his hand moments earlier.

Franz then placed his hands roughly on my arms and held me firmly and against my own will, shouting at me though I was mere inches away, "You will never disobey me or dishonor me again, Christine Erica, or there will be consequences that you will not appreciate. To your room," he ordered, shoving me away most rudely. "Now!" Casting him one more vicious glance, I turned on my heel and ran from the private dining room into the foyer of the palace, heading for the staircase up to my rooms. But I did not go up the stairs. Rather, I turned right and hiked up my skirts, hurrying down the winding passageways to the servants' quarters.

As I rounded a corner, I ran head-on into one of the scullery maids, Gabriella. "Watch where you are going!" she shouted as I caught my breath. However, upon realizing my identity, she immediately dropped to the cold stone floor at my feet, crying, "Oh, lady, please have mercy! I did not mean…"

"Gabriella," I said kindly, bending over and pulling her up to a standing position, "it's the Christine you've always known." Staring into her eyes, I silently pleaded with her to appreciate me as the little girl who came to the servants' quarters all the time, who was practically one of them. "I am no different, Gabriella, than I always was." I lent the woman a smile and squeezed her arm amicably.

"Begging your pardon, lady," she said curtly, curtsying and continuing on up the corridor as tears came to my eyes. It was an entirely unusual feeling to be treated like a foreigner by people who had known me since I was a young and scared child. One would think that, having known me for so long, people like Gabriella would continue to treat me as such, if not simply offering a little more respect. But it was more different than I'd anticipated, and I did not like it.

Taking a deep breath, I kept on, walking a little slower now, with less haste. Finally, I found the intricate wooden door leading to the chapel, and I quickly went in, closing it firmly behind me. The candles were out, nothing illuminating the small room, so I fell to the floor and lit them, the tiny beams of light dancing off the stone walls and the fresco of the Virgin.

"Holy Mother, forgive me for what I have done this night," I prayed, making the sign of the Cross and bowing my head to the fresco. "Forgive these most rude and unnecessary sins of mine, and I shall do whatever you ask. I have not been faithful to those who helped me most, Antoinette, Marguerite and the Angel of Music. Holy Mother, if you can hear me, let them know that I love them and that I beg their forgiveness as I do yours. I do not wish to do wrong, Blessed Virgin, only to live my life with love and vivaciousness, to make each day count and to do good unto others. I have not done this, Holy Mother; please forgive…"

I paused, sensing something odd about the chapel. Suddenly, one of the candles flickered out and, as I leaned forward to rekindle it, a voice came as if from everywhere and yet nowhere at all. "_My little princess, where have you been?_" Startled at the voice of the Angel of Music after so long, I stumbled to my feet, backing up against the door; his voice was there as well. "_Do you fear me after so long?_"

"N-n-no," I stammered, stabilizing myself and adjusting my posture so I looked less intimidated. "I was just so startled by your voice that I…"

"_You would not have been if you had been keeping up with your visits, my dear,_" he said coolly, the sound of his voice, so powerful and masculine and yet so heart-wrenching, causing my very bones to rattle. "_I am insulted, Christine, that you find those loathsome relatives of yours to be more important than your singing. Was it not you who begged the Virgin for song?_"

"I…" I started, but, after the incident with Franz, I was still on the defensive, and I immediately called back, "What do you mean, 'insulted?' Wasn't it you who wanted me to take on this role? I'm doing what you said to! I am fulfilling my destiny as…"

"_You would only be fulfilling your destiny if you fulfilled your promises!_" he responded, his voice harsh and chilling. "_Do you believe that you would have this opportunity if I had not taught you?_" I found myself at a loss for words, not sure what to say that would not gain me another rude reply from the Angel.

"I am sorry, Angel," I murmured, falling the floor at the foot of the fresco. "I did not mean to offend you." It was no lie; I truly did not mean it, and I cursed myself over and over for it. After all he'd done for me, I had not given back. "Anything you ask of me, Angel, I will do." There was silence in the chapel for quite a long time before he spoke.

"_Flattering child, you are forgiven under one condition; I demand your respect._"

"You have my respect, Angel," was my immediate reply.

"_Do you offer respect to the ladies who teach you your manners?_" he asked me, almost randomly.

"Well, I _must_ offer them my respect; that is part of the lessons," I said calmly, my heart still beating at twice its normal rate.

"_And it is also part of mine,_" the Angel replied, his voice a low rumble that reverberated around the room and shook me to my very core. Of course I had noticed the provocative beauty of his voice before, but after so much time it felt so unusual and yet so wonderful I thought that it had to be a sin to love it. "_You have been keeping up with your singing, then?_"

At first I nodded to the change of subject, but then, not knowing if he could truly see me, I replied, "Of course, Angel. I shall be singing for the Comte and his son shortly." Silence ensued.

"_You hold a specific interest for the Vicomte?_" I was startled at the question, flabbergasted that one would ask such a thing, but the Angel's motives were his own and I would not challenge them.

"I've never met him," I responded truthfully. "How can I be…" the Angel interrupted me.

"_I did not ask if you had met him. I asked if you were interested in him. Do you look forward to being his bride, Christine?_" His imposing this question upon me not only confused me but scared me as well; he was my music teacher, and of all things he had to bring up the possibility of my marriage to the Vicomte, the one thing I had thought would not come up. But it did and naturally I was compelled to answer; after all, the Angel commanded respect.

"I am interested in anybody I have not yet met but will," I said, trying to skirt around the subject as best I could. "As for marriage, I shall not know until I meet the man; how can I wish to be married to someone I have never even seen?" Another period of uncomfortable silence followed my statement, and, thinking the Angel had possibly departed, I knelt down to blow out the candles and, hearing no voice calling me back, I headed for the door and proceeded out of the dark chapel.

"Christine!" Marguerite's voice was a pleasant surprise to my ears as I shut the door behind me, making sure my skirt was not caught up in it. "Oh, Christine!" I felt Marguerite's arms around me, hugging me tightly. "I've not seen you in…" but suddenly she stopped and moved away. Curtsying to me, she murmured, "I beg your pardon, my lady," and scurried off.

"Wait! Marguerite!" I called after her, hastening to follow her and catching her arm. I spun her around and looked into her pale blue eyes, noticing that they were rimmed with tears. "Marguerite, whatever's the matter?"

"His Majesty says that we cannot speak with you casually," she answered solemnly, pulling away from me. "I'm truly sorry, Christine," Marguerite said before turning away.

"No, Marguerite," I stopped her. "As princess I give you right to talk to me. Please, Marguerite. I miss you and your mother so!" Marguerite turned and looked at me. "I've been so alone without you."

As quickly as she'd pulled away, Marguerite threw her arms around me, and the two of us were soon laughing and crying like sisters. "Oh, Christine I've missed you too, and so has Mother. There's so much that's been going on without you!"

"Such as?" I asked, looping my arm through Marguerite's and beginning to walk down the corridor. "Tell me everything!"

"Well, to start, Mother got offered a position at the opera house!" I stopped, surprised. "They want her to be the ballet mistress!" Marguerite continued, smiling happily. "What's more, they want me to dance! The managers said that I could be prima ballerina by the time I'm twenty!" Seeing the happiness in Marguerite's face outdid any sadness I'd felt that she and Antoinette might be leaving, and I smiled at her.

"I'm so proud of you both!" I said, but my voice sounded undeniably sad.

"Christine, you will try to come and see us? It would be most unbearable to never see you again!" Marguerite's face had lost its luster almost immediately after seeing the lack of light on mine.

"I right well think I'll have to," I replied. "Goings on here are so dreary!" Marguerite doesn't respond immediately.

"I suppose that's why you come down to the chapel?" I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at Marguerite. Nobody could know about the Angel of Music, nobody! I had promised him and I would not break another one as I had before. "Christine?"

"It's none of your business what goes on in that chapel!" I spat, sounding more rude than I'd meant to.

"I'm sorry," Marguerite said, backing away a little. "It's just…" she trailed off a little, and I motioned for her to keep going. "You're not meeting anyone in there, are you?" I swallowed hard, knowing that she meant a serving boy or another man but nonetheless nervous about what she would uncover about my time there.

"No!" I snapped, hoping the conversation would end there; it didn't.

"Then why did I hear…" she started, but I immediately cut her off.

"You heard nothing!" My voice echoed around the hallway and, not wanting the discussion to keep on, I pushed past Marguerite towards the main floor of the palace, pretending nothing had happened. I knew that I had hurt her, more than I cared to let on, but I would not expose my most important and treasured secret. The Angel of Music had trusted me with his presence and I would not let him down. At least, I hoped.

6


	3. Father, Son and the Circle

**I thought it would be much longer, but my muse went wild. Again, no promises for when I'll update next, but I've had some inspiration…knock on wood**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Three – Father, Son and the Circle**_

The next morning was dreary and pale, my room still bathed in shadow though it was well past dawn. I rose from my bed, sliding my small cold feet into a pair of warm slippers, and walked to the window, covered in shimmering white condensation; winter was coming early.

Using my fist, I wiped a spot on one of the windowpanes clear and peered out over the grounds, only to see the usually spotless green lawns coated with a thin layer of frost, dimly sparkling from the sunlight out of some open patches of sky. Just beyond the far wall of the grounds I could see the bright red coats of the guards standing watch at the gate, dressed in their warmest uniforms, the color a shock through the sea of grey and white.

I turned from the misty window and padded slowly across the room to my vanity, sitting upon the velvet-upholstered stool. As I picked up a hairclip to pin back my unruly brunette curls, I stopped, looking into the mirror, astonished. Across the side of my face was an ugly bruise, blue-black and utterly obvious. Though it was easily covered with makeup, that did not stop me from cursing my uncle under my breath, and myself for riling him up the prior evening.

Upon pinning my hair back from my face, I rose from the stool and took leave of my bedroom, walking through the rest of my wing of the palace until I reached the staircase to the main floor. In no hurry, I descended the stairs slowly, savoring the warmth in the main part of the palace, still a little chilly from being in my room with a heater that had long since lost its energy.

Once I was on the landing, I walked briskly to the kitchens and situated myself at one of the many preparation tables. The kitchen staff was not present in full, only a few of the cooks there at such an early time, but one, Natasha, noticed me and hurried over. Like Antoinette and Marguerite, Natasha had not believed the maids' and my late father's stories about me being cursed, though she was persuaded by the others not to interact with me for fear that she would catch death as my mother had. Since my father's death, however, she became friendlier and was subject to give me whatever item of food I wanted whenever I fancied, even before the others in the palace had risen.

"What can I get my little lady this morning?" Natasha asked me, her voice steeped in warmth, love and an unavoidable feel of motherliness. I smiled at the lovely cook at the question, glad as ever to have her as a friend.

"I don't feel like much," I replied truthfully, "but maybe some…" Natasha cut me off.

"Sweet Lord, what's happened to your face, child?" she cried, reaching a hand, not pudgy but large and warm, out to touch my face. "You've not been fencing with that good-for-nothing stable boy again, have you?" Natasha asked quizzically, referring to the instance in which I'd been caught fencing with Winthrop, a stable boy, when I was but ten. "I swear, if he's roped you into it I'll…"

"Natasha, I've not been doing anything out of the ordinary," I assured her truthfully. "I…"

"Tell me the truth, honey," Natasha interrupted me, her maternal instinct taking over. Pausing for a moment, I noticed how my uncle's new ruling on how to treat me had not affected Natasha, and how welcome that was! I couldn't stand it that my only friends in the palace were intent on treating me like a porcelain doll when my own uncle couldn't stop himself from laying a cruel hand on my cheek. "Out with it! I'll have no more of this dilly-dallying."

"It was my uncle," I told her solemnly, bowing my head and fiddling with the tassels on the end of the ties of my robe.

Natasha backed away in horror. "No! Did he now?" Diverting my attention from my less-than-intriguing robe to Natasha, I nodded, frowning. "Christine, that is no way for him to treat you! What kind of example is he setting?" I shrugged, prompting her to continue on in her rant. "And what did that frail little aunt of yours have to say about it?" Another thing that always pleased me about Natasha was that she was unafraid to make comments about my aunt and uncle's behavior when others in the palace would simply gasp at their actions and scurry away, lest they be caught badmouthing the royalty.

"She was just as distraught as he was," I said honestly, tracing my fingers around on the tabletop. "I would not have blamed her if she laid a hand on me before he did." I looked up at Natasha, her plump, friendly face full of awe.

"What could a sweet thing like you have done to get those two off their hinges?" I chuckled at her statement and sighed tremendously.

"Franz was being the loathsome hypocrite he is, asking me why I preferred the servants to my family. I told him it was because he'd never paid me one bit of attention and of course he denied it."

"There's a shock," Natasha replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me. Eyeing my bruised cheek once again, she asked, "You're sure you don't need anything for that bruise?" I shook my head, feeling entirely unworthy of such kindness for reasons I wasn't truly sure of, and Natasha said, "Now, what would my dear lady like to break her fast?"

"As I said, not much. I'm afraid that I don't hunger much this morning." It was truth, but Natasha did not believe me at all. On the contrary, she thought me just as much a liar as my uncle.

"Nonsense, Christine! I've just gotten a batch of eggs that are much too tempting to pass up. You'll eat them and you will put a smile on and say, 'Why, Natasha these are the best damn eggs I have ever eaten!'" Giggling, I watched her hurry off into the kitchen to prepare my food, smiling after her. One good soul in a haven for bad ones; a pleasant find.

After eating Natasha's eggs, which I do admit were impeccable, I left the kitchens and proceeded back up to my room where one of the many maids Andréa had assigned to me was waiting. As I entered the room she curtsied and explained, "My lady, Her Majesty the Queen has told me that you are permitted to take leave of your lessons today, save for your singing practice. You will meet with the violinist this morn at an hour 'til midday meal, and Her Majesty requests that you look your absolute best."

"Of course," I replied courteously, drawing my robe from my shoulders and placing it neatly over the edge of my bed, dropping the slippers from my feet at its edge. As I approached the girl, no more than a few years my elder, I saw her pale eyes dart to the bruise on my cheek, but not for more than a moment; what a sin to be caught staring at the royalty!

The maid drew from my wardrobe a deep navy-colored dress, one of the one's that had been made for me immediately after my ascension into Carla's role. It had a beautiful, gently scalloped neckline, dipping just low enough to be enticing but not so far as to be risqué, which was embellished with exquisite embroidery. The bodice was formed to fit only when one was wearing a corset, but still offered enough room to breathe, and it gave way into the long, graceful skirt, cut slightly short to reveal pale the blue petticoats.

I pulled my nightgown from my body and allowed the maid to dress me, yanking at corset strings and ties on the back of the dress, arranging the fabric so it would fall nicely. Around my waist she tied an elegant lanyard in blue satin that hung down the front of my skirt and shimmered in the light, a nice finishing touch.

After being dressed, I sat at my vanity to brush through my unruly hair as the maid went about finding jewelry and hairpieces. She pulled from a little box a simple chain necklace on which there hung a thin circle of diamonds that was wide enough that it could likely fit around my wrist. Upon arranging it at the perfect spot on my neck, she handed me a pair of plain diamond earrings that I put in as she pinned my hair up with a matching hairclip that was nearly lost amidst the dark curls.

Then she began applying cosmetics to my face, patting an extra amount of powder on my cheek, hiding the ugly blue-black of the bruise. There was rouge and lip-color as well as a powder to set off my eyes, but she was done rather quickly. Just as I stood up from my vanity, I saw a whirl of blonde hair as Marguerite ran into my room.

"Christine!" she panted, bending over to catch her breath. I could see the maid beside me flinch at Marguerite's impropriety in addressing me, but I dismissed her immediately and beckoned to Marguerite. "Oh, Christine, you won't believe it!"

"What is it?" I asked her, leading her to my vanity stool and sitting her down so she could calm herself. Marguerite looked up at me, her blue eyes dancing.

"They're here!" Marguerite said, still at a loss for breath.

"Who's here?" I replied, kneeling down beside her as best I was able in my corseted state. "Tell me, Marguerite."

"The Comte and his son!" she cried gleefully, jumping up from the vanity stool, and I followed her. "But don't tell your aunt that I told you when she comes to fetch you; I'm not supposed to know, really," she admitted, walking towards the door. "I was bringing up a pitcher of water for your sister when I heard your uncle talking to someone in the receiving room, so I took a peek and…oh, Christine, he's so handsome!" Marguerite said dreamily. "I knew it was them from just one look; it was so apparent that they were related and your uncle was interested in conversation as I've never seen him; who else would he be so intrigued by that he would be more interested in them than in himself?"

I hadn't realized that my mouth had dropped open until just then and I closed it instantly. To think that my future husband was just a floor below me? I had not even turned sixteen yet and I somehow knew that this was the case, that I would soon be introduced to the man I would be with for ever if Franz and Andréa got their way. "Are you sure it's them?" I asked Marguerite, still not quite believing what I was hearing.

"Oh, I am more positive than I've ever been about anything!" she said to me, taking my arms in her hands. "I envy you this man, Christine. He seems so kind and wonderful and he's handsome on the side! What else could possibly matter?"

"Looks can be deceiving, Marguerite," I told her. "I can't know what he's like until I actually make his acquaintance. But I do hope he's as you say," I assured her, "for if he is then I am certainly in love already!" Marguerite giggled and leaned in, lightly kissing my cheek.

"Christine, I'm so happy for you. If anybody deserves a wonderful and good man, it's you." She patted my arm and I smiled after her as she took her leave. I closed the door behind Marguerite and just stood there, taking a deep breath. Today was the day, I was sure of it. Just thoughts of it tingled my spine and made my mouth dry.

I was in such a state of shock that the sound of the door opening startled the life out of me. Whirling around, I saw Andréa standing in the door, staring at me and appraising my appearance. "You have an appointment with Sir Reyer, Christine; where have you been? I thought Sandra had told you!" she said firmly and agitatedly in reference to the maid who'd dressed me.

"She did," I told her, "but I lost track of the time." I knew that telling Andréa about Marguerite's visit would not be beneficial, so I tried to cover it up. "I was thinking about how I cannot wait for the Comte and Vicomte to arrive and…"

Andréa shot me an accusatory stare and replied coldly, "You are a terrible liar, Christine. I saw the little servant girl…"

"Marguerite," I interjected, my voice sounding very hostile which is not like me at all under normal circumstances. "Her name is Marguerite and I'd appreciate you calling her as such!"

My aunt sighed and said, "To your appointment, Christine." I walked stiffly past Andréa, set on not looking at her, when she stopped me and pressed my shoulders back. "Posture!" I rolled my eyes and continued on to the music room where a small man with curly graying hair was sitting with a violin.

"Ah, the lovely Princess Christine," the man said, rising to take my hand, gently kissing my knuckles.

"And you must be Sir Reyer?" I asked him, trying to be as proper as I could.

"Naturally, my lady," he said, returning to his seat and beckoning to me. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance and to play for you, my lady," Reyer continued, picking up his violin as I went to stand beside him.

"You have played here before?" I said to Reyer as he finished tuning his violin.

"Of course, my lady. I have played for your sister many a time, and if you are half as talented as she is I will enjoy myself immensely when I hear you sing." I rolled my eyes; Carla's voice had always been blown out of proportion and Reyer's opinions were no exceptions. "Now, what will you sing this eve?"

The next hour was full of singing, violin music and constant bickering between myself and Reyer over trivial things like where he should sit to important things such as key. The man simply did not seem to want to embrace the fact that I had talent and was capable of holding my own. "Once more, my lady, and you may go."

About half-way through the aria I had chosen to sing, with the Angel's help of course, I heard voices outside the music room. One was clearly my uncle, another was distinctly masculine, but sounded older, and the third was also manly, though it sounded to be much younger and almost familiar.

"What is that sound?" the older male's voice said questioningly, and there was a pause. I continued to sing, pretending that I was not listening when I was.

"That is my niece," Franz said, sounding as though he was saying it through gritted teeth, unwilling to admit that I was what had caught the man's attentions.

Then the younger voice spoke. "She sounds like an angel, my king. I have never heard anything so beautiful." I smiled, proud of such a compliment.

"I do believe my son is charmed!" the older man said, and I nearly choked on the last syllable of the line I was singing. Son? The wheels began turning in my head as I began the last stanza; the men outside had to be the Comte and his son, and if that was true then the man who had complimented my voice was none other than the Vicomte, my future husband.

I barely noticed that the song was over as I continued to listen to the men outside. "Dear boy, you will just have to wait to hear more until this evening; we are preparing a fine meal for you and some entertainment, if you will join us. My wife and I do hope that in time our families will be seeing much more of one another?"

The older man, the Comte, chuckled, his voice deep and resonating. "We shall see."

Reyer seemed not to have noticed my distracted state, for he said to me, "That was quite lovely, my lady Christine. I shall see you this evening?" I nodded to him, and he bowed to me, taking leave of the room. After he'd gone, I myself left and peered over the banister only to see Franz showing two men to the door. I could not make out much of their appearance, but I was able to tell that both were gifted with brilliant gold hair, the elder's beginning to gray while the younger had his tied at his neck. Strange…he seemed oddly similar to…

I clasped my hand over my mouth to hide the horror that began poisoning me from the inside. The day in the alleys, the cultured voice, the smooth hands…it was all coming back to me, piecing itself together, and I stumbled back to my room, overcome.

The Vicomte was none other than the man named Raoul who had saved me in the alleys mere weeks ago.

Eager to see if my assumptions were true, I grabbed a cloak, wrapped it around myself, sure to cover my face with the shadows formed by the hood, and hurried down the staircase, through the servants' quarters and out the side entrance of the palace. I walked stealthily between a row of trees and the stone wall of the palace before I finally reached the front.

Peering out from my hiding place, watching intently, I saw the Comte and Vicomte come outside and down the steps of the palace, talking quietly enough that I could not hear them. There was a carriage waiting for them on the circular drive that led up from the gate and then brought visitors around the display garden in the front. They stepped up into the carriage and the doors were shut before the driver started it down the drive. It was not until that moment that I realized that they were going to go alongside the palace before turning…and they were headed straight for me!

I tried to cover myself up in the shadow of the palace and of the trees, but as the carriage rolled by I could not help but notice the face of the Vicomte peering out the window and staring at me! There was no doubt in my mind that it was Raoul, for the piercing blue eyes and stunning gold hair were enough. I immediately backed up upon this vision and felt another body behind mine.

My shriek was probably loud enough to be heard from anywhere on the palace grounds, but I quieted upon seeing Marguerite behind me. "Handsome, isn't he?" she said with a grin.

"…Yes," I stammered, a little overwhelmed. "I think…Marguerite, I think I've met him before." Her eyes widened.

"But you've never…you can't have! Where, Christine, where?" Marguerite grasped my hand tightly in both of hers, staring at me. She was trustworthy; I could certainly tell her. But the circumstances upon which I'd run from the palace were entirely my own, for they regarded the Angel of Music.

"It was a few months ago, just before I was told I was replacing Carla, I got so fed up with them fawning over her that I ran out into the city. I know that it was unintelligent of me, but I managed to get myself hopelessly lost. This man found me and…oh, Marguerite I'm sure it's him! I know it!" Marguerite's face lit up, showing her happiness.

"Well, then it's settled! The Vicomte is beyond handsome with a heart of gold to match!" Marguerite laced her arm with mine and we walked back along the path between the palace and the row of trees towards the servants' quarters. We continued on inside, and when we passed the chapel I tried desperately not to look, but I couldn't help noticing Marguerite's wandering eyes.

6


	4. Premiere and Encore

**Sorry for the long hiatus…I was extremely busy and I apologize. Hopefully there will be an update for Global Desire, my other current story, relatively soon.**

**As well, I want to extend my thanks to fellow author _DonJuanTriumphs, _a wonderful person and an authoress who has truly grown with every story she writes. :-)**

**The lyrics to "No One Knows Who I Am" do not belong to me…they belong to Leslie Bricusse and Frank Wildhorn.**

**If you're interested, I've started a new endeavor that is not Phantom-related…it's entitled The Hyde Formula and is based upon the musical _Jekyll & Hyde_, though you need not necessarily be familiar with it to read the story.**

**Enjoy this chapter! I hope it gets you thinking! And please, if you've been lurking, consider reviewing…it really does add something when you feel that your work is appreciated.**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Four – Premiere and Encore**_

My heart seemed to be pounding out of my chest as three maids, overseen by Andréa, prepared me for the evening. First, they had bathed me in such a sweet-smelling bath that it was almost too much, scrubbing my skin until it was pink and raw and my aunt pronounced me clean. Then there was the tugging and pulling at my hair, fighting with it to lie flat instead of flying every which-way. And, of course, there was the makeup, mostly to cover my bruised cheek.

Finally, the maids let me put on my undergarments, bound me up in a corset tighter than any I'd worn before, and, after at least two hours, they put me in my dress. It was similarly cut to the one I'd worn earlier but it was far more dazzling and expensive, made entirely of fine cream silk and gold brocade. The sleeves barely went over my shoulders, so my arms were covered in matching gloves that went up just past my elbows. In my hair, they twisted in pieces of golden threads and, after pulling a piece of hair from each side of my head, one of the maids fastened it all together with a golden clip.

I was beginning to feel dizzy from lack of air as the maids finished arranging my skirts and moved away so Andréa could look at me. She'd already been done up in a long black gown and layers of gaudy jewelry, her throat, wrists, ears and fingers covered in everything from rubies to topaz to diamonds; I began to feel thankful for my simple gold choker and bracelet.

"Away with you," Andréa said to the maids, and they all curtsied and took their leave so only the two of us remained. Then my aunt turned on me. "Christine, I know that you have been rather distraught lately," she said in feigned solemnity.

"Distraught?" I snapped back, the tone of her voice twisting my nerves.

"I will not hear that tone, Christine!" Andréa responded curtly. "You know that tonight will determine your future and that of our country. The Comte is seriously interested in making marital arrangements for you and his son. Your uncle and I both will be extremely disappointed if this falls through due to your actions this eve. Do you understand me?" I stared angrily at Andréa, trying desperately to think of a witty, cultured, but snide remark.

Unable to come up with something, I replied, "Yes, Andréa," and bowed my head in defeat.

"Good," my aunt said, turning and walking from the room, calling back to me, "Come along then!" I took a long, deep breath before following Andréa out of my room and to the grand staircase. We descended in silence, only Franz waiting for us at the landing, and upon reaching him, his wife snatched his arm with her spindly gloved hands and clung onto him. The way the two of them looked just disgusted me and I prayed that I would not end up like that with the Vicomte.

I felt like my legs were going to give way when we reached the door to the receiving room and one of the butlers bowed to us, opening the door. Cautiously, I followed my aunt and uncle in and allowed the door to close behind me. The receiving room was not as large as many of the other rooms in the palace, only large enough for a few recliners, a table, and a decently-sized sofa, so from the moment I walked in I could see the two men sitting mere feet from me.

The sounds of our entrance caused both men to look our way and then stand, and when they did I couldn't help but stare fixedly at the younger. If I had had any doubts that the man was Raoul, they flew from my mind in an instant. Everything about him was exactly the same as it had been the day he and I had met, although his features were a little more professional looking, his hair impeccably groomed and his face perfectly clean, his stature natural and tall.

"Ah, my dear Comte Philippe, it is a pleasure to see you twice in the same day!" Franz said, shaking the Comte's hand amicably. My uncle turned to the Vicomte, who bowed courteously before turning to my aunt's voice.

"You have grown up since last I saw you, Raoul!" she said, confirming for me that it was not some illusion that the Vicomte was who I thought he was. "And more handsome, I might add!"

"Thank you, your Majesty," Raoul said, his voice deep but not heavy, just as I remembered it being.

I realized that I had been staring when the Comte's voice, seemingly out of nowhere, said, "And this must be your niece!" Shocked at mention of me, I turned abruptly to see the Comte watching me intently. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he continued, taking my gloved hand and kissing it. "I have heard wonderful things of you."

Though I highly doubted the truthfulness in his last statement, for Franz and Andrea would never speak highly of me unless it was absolutely necessary, I feigned flattery and curtsied to the Comte. "I am honored to meet you as well, Comte Philippe." As I stood up from my curtsy, I saw a pair of shimmering blue eyes fixed upon me, and I turned to see the Vicomte staring at me. I offered a soft and discreet smile, trying to look as though I was not focused upon him as he was me.

"She is lovelier than you let on, Franz!" the Comte said kindly, motioning to my uncle. I turned to watch his response, only to find him blushing, and I held back a snicker. "Christine, is it?" I nodded gently to him as he continued, "May I introduce my son Raoul?" My eyes fell upon the Vicomte whose gaze, I noticed, was still fixed upon me.

Raoul reached out and took my hand, his touch soft but strong as I remembered it. "I am honored to meet you, my lady," he said, kissing my knuckles in a most gentlemanly fashion, his eyes never leaving mine. "I have the strangest feeling that we've…" I swallowed hard, knowing what he would say if given the opportunity, but the Vicomte was interrupted by a voice from outside that turned out to be Antoinette's.

"Your Majesties, my lords, dinner is served in the dining hall," she said, curtsying to the group of us. We began to walk to the door, my aunt and uncle first, followed by the Comte.

I reached the doorway at the same time as Raoul, who pulled back to let me pass, but I said, my eyes on Antoinette, "One moment." He bowed to me and continued on as Antoinette took hold of my arm.

"Christine, you have the strangest look in your eyes!" Antoinette told me. "Are you lovesick or is it something else?" I stared at her quizzically, wondering what she could mean. "Does it involve the Vicomte?"

Not wanting to tell the truth of how I'd run out into the city, I lied, "No, Antoinette! I…"

"It is another man, then?" My eyes grew wide at her accusation.

"When have I had the time of day for another man, Antoinette?" It was absolutely true that I had not the time for an affair, but I felt my insides churn at the thought of continuing my lying about the Angel of Music's existence. I had kept it up for near six years and I would not let it get out after so long. "Why do you say that?"

"I am like your mother, Christine, and I worry for you. You've had such a dreamy look in your eyes and before you go off with the Vicomte I need to know." Looking at Antoinette and the sincere expression upon her face, I began to feel just terrible about keeping up the lies regarding the Angel of Music. I had promised him that I would not speak of him to others, but I felt like a wicked person all the same, especially because it was Antoinette, the one woman who had ever truly believed in me.

"Antoinette, if there were anyone else you know that I would tell you," I said firmly, squeezing her arm amicably and walking towards the dining hall, my skirts making soft crinkling noises on the tiled floor. Upon entering the dining hall, I found that the others had taken their seats, the only one vacant being beside Raoul, which did not put me in any state of surprise.

I made my way graciously to my seat, where a courtier pulled the chair from the table for me. As I sat, I felt the Vicomte's piercing blue gaze upon me once again, and, though it was disconcerting on the one-hand, it made my face flush what was certainly an unbecoming crimson from what was either flattery or embarrassment.

As servers brought forth our meal from the kitchens, I made many a futile attempt not to look at Raoul beside me, but my willpower failed me. It was not long before I was glancing over at the handsome young man, and the looks gradually became longer until they were nearly all-out stares. I could simply not get enough of his fair skin, golden hair and piercing blue eyes like the sea!

The meal commenced at a dreadfully slow pace, Franz and Andréa forcing conversation with Comte Philippe. Afraid of what would happen if and when Raoul and I struck up conversation, I remained silent.

Finally, the plates were cleared away, and I felt my stomach flip as Sir Reyer made his appearance through a side door. I cast quick glance towards Andréa and saw her nod to me, at which point I rose from my chair and walked towards the violinist on shaky legs. The four others at the table fell into complete silence as I positioned myself beside Sir Reyer and he began to play.

From my lips spilled the aria I had chosen, mixing with the accompaniment of the violin and filling the dining hall. The words resonated within me, so close to my heart, so like my life. "_Look at me and tell me who I am, why I am, what I am. Call me a fool, and it's true I am! I don't know who I am._" Sir Reyer played on as I looked at the faces of Franz, Andréa, the Comte and Raoul, all staring at me with incredulous looks. "_It's such a shame! I'm such a sham! No one knows who I am! Am I the face of the future? Am I the face of the past? Am I the one who must finish last?_"

As I sang, I saw Raoul's stunningly blue eyes watching me intently, glazed over, his face showing his entrancement, and I couldn't help but smile to myself. "_Look at me and tell me who I am, why I am, what I am. Will I survive? Who will give a damn if no one knows who I am? Nobody knows, not even you! No one knows who I am…_" My voice trailed off as Sir Reyer completed his accompaniment, a sad, lilting lullaby.

It took a few moments, but the four others finally began to applaud me and I curtsied to them, seeing Raoul's gaze boring into me once more. A crimson flush threatened to stain my cheeks, and I let it, happy as I had not been for nearly my whole life. _Angel of Music, I thank you!_

I took a step to return to my seat when Raoul was at my side, offering me his arm to escort me back to my place at the table. My cheeks grew even redder as I accepted and allowed myself to be led back to my seat. However, before I could sit, my aunt, uncle and the Comte all rose and came around the table to me.

"Your Highness, you truly have the voice of an angel! I've never heard such!" the Comte complimented me, taking my hand and kissing it.

His mention of "an angel" prompted me to begin, "Well, it's funny you should say that, my lord, for I…" but I suddenly stopped, quite aware of how close I was to revealing my secret of the Angel of Music. I bit my lip, which was certainly unladylike, and fell silent.

The Comte seemed to discard my comment, thankfully, and went on, "Who, might I ask, trained you so impeccably?" My mouth went quite dry at the Comte's question and the room became awkwardly quiet. I could not possibly lie; my aunt and uncle would pick up on it in a heartbeat. But to tell the truth?

"I…" I began shakily, but Franz interrupted.

"She is, I daresay, a rare but natural talent, Comte Philippe, and has been rehearsing for this with Sir Reyer," my uncle stated, not entirely untruthfully. The Comte's eyes darted from my uncle to me and back again, speculating as to if one of us was lying, but saw no peculiarities.

"Your Highness," Comte Philippe said, addressing me, "I am about to make you an offer that you can choose to accept or decline of your own volition." I was unsure if this was to be his proposing that Raoul and I be married or something else, and the unknowingness made my whole body shake. "I will be holding a gala upon the new month and it would surely be a joy to have you sing for my guests." Absolutely speechless, I looked tentatively at my aunt and uncle to silently request their opinion. As I did so, however, Philippe added to Franz, "We can discuss all…_other_ arrangements at that time, your Majesty."

"Christine will be there, Philippe, you can be most certain," Andréa chirped, hanging onto Franz's arm and the Comte's every word. "I can ascertain that the company will be respectable?"

"The most," Comte Philippe replied, and it was only then that I realized I still held Raoul's arm. I would have released myself from his grasp to relieve us both of the awkwardness, but his hold was firm and I couldn't at all budge. "There is one, however," the Comte said, "that the Comtesse insisted I invite. A certain Lord Destler; says he was a friend of her family and that we must invite him and his sour reputation."

"Sour reputation?" I asked quizzically, glad that the subject has been changed but still all too aware of Raoul's arm linked with my own.

"From the little that I know he is of noble birth but does not at all play the part. An architect by profession, the Comtesse tells me, and a talented one but not divine company by any means." Comte Philippe pauses. "There were rumors a few years back that he had committed murder upon one of his own groundskeepers, but the authorities disproved it."

"Then why on Earth would Mother still fell an attachment to this Lord Destler?" I was startled by Raoul's voice; he'd hardly spoken at all. "He certainly does not seem good company!"

"Quite the contrary," the Comte responded to his son, and I could tell that Franz and Andréa were quite displeased at the prospect of his attendance at the Comte's gala. "I hear that he is quite the charismatic fellow when he wishes to be, but sarcastic as one couldn't possibly believe. But the fact remains that I've invited him at my wife's insistence and there is nothing left to be done about him. We shall just have to deal with it like the honorable people we are, do you not agree, your Majesty?" he stated to my uncle.

Another uncomfortable silence followed before the Comte started, "No matter! The gala will be quite lovely and shall be made even lovelier with Her Highness Christine's voice, don't you agree?" My aunt and uncle nodded unemotionally, simply agreeing with the Comte's comments on me. "I am quite afraid that we must take our leave, your Majesties," he stated, moving towards the door. The rest followed, and Raoul finally disengaged himself from my arm. "Raoul," he continued, addressing his son, "you had a pleasant time I trust?"

"Of course, Father," he replied in his cultured but still boyish voice. As the Comte continued to speak with Franz and Andréa before his departure, Raoul turned to me and I felt my heart drop into my stomach. "You sang beautifully, my lady," his voice washed over me as he bent and kissed my knuckles. "I impress upon you that I will be looking forward to our next encounter every day 'til it comes." He rose again and our eyes locked, pristine blue mixing with chocolate brown.

"As will I, my lord," I replied, curtsying and seeing Raoul to the door. He and his father took their cloaks and hats from the two courtiers waiting to show them out to their carriage, and I found it the opportune moment to gaze unwaveringly at the dashing young Vicomte. He truly was one of the handsomest men I'd ever laid eyes upon, and one of the kindest and most gentlemanly; he could have had any woman in the world as his bride, and I was the one who would have him. Me!

Raoul and Comte Philippe took their leave from the palace and Franz and Andréa were up the staircase and into the master suite nearly instantaneously after the great doors had closed behind them. Taking the opportunity to sneak off, I hurried down to the servants quarters, even dressed as I was, and found my way to the chapel. I closed the door behind me and arranged myself upon the floor, careful not to dirty my dress.

I lit the candles, said a quick prayer to the Virgin Mother and began to speak softly. "Angel, I thank you dearly for this glorious opportunity! The Comte wishes for me to sing for his guests, my Angel, can you believe it!"

"_It is hardly a shock to me, my sweet,_" the Angel's voice replied, coming out of nowhere, as per the usual. His addressing me in a much more informal way caused me to shiver; never had I been talked to by a man in such a way! _Man…he is an Angel! A divinity! Let it be!_

"You are too kind," I responded, blushing.

"_Do not say such things, Christine,_" the Angel continued. "_I only tell you what is true, and it is anything but a lie that your voice is astounding._" The flattery did not cease!

"Without your guidance, my Angel, would I have succeeded as I did tonight? You and your presence have gifted me with song, and I owe to you all that has and will happen because of it," I said truthfully, raising my head to look upon the fresco of the Virgin Mary, hoping that I might know where my Angel was.

"_Do not thank me just yet, Christine. There is still much written in your destiny that has yet to happen; save your praises._" His words struck a nerve in me, though I was unsure why. As I prepared to request more knowledge from him, I heard the door being pushed open and I turned my head to see a startled Marguerite standing on the threshold.

"Christine!" she cried shrilly as I rose hurriedly to my feet. "What have you been doing in here?" Marguerite ran to me and took my hands in hers. It seemed that the deceit was up.

Sighing deeply, I said quietly, "Marguerite, what I tell you now you must hold close to your heart as a secret. Nobody, not your mother, not anyone, can know about this." She nodded emphatically, and I added, "One moment." I blew out the candles, made the sign of the Cross, and returned to Marguerite.

"Come; we'll talk in the corridor," Marguerite said to me, and I looked at her skeptically; corridors were not suitable places to tell secrets! "Oh, don't fret! Not a soul is walking about at this hour!"

"Then why were you?" I asked her.

"I was up to get some water when I heard your voice," Marguerite replied, but quickly added, "so tell me what's been going on!"

I took in a deep breath and began. "It was past six years ago, Marguerite, when I first came across the chapel. I had thought that it was a broom closet or the like, but upon closer inspection I found that it was indeed a chapel, and so I went in. I asked the Virgin Mary for something to bring joy into my life, and what I asked for was music.

"At that moment, there was this cold draft about the room and then this voice – a man's voice! – that asked me why I was crying! It was out of nowhere, Marguerite, and it said that it was the Angel of Music!" I was fully worked up by then in telling my story after years of silence.

Marguerite scoffed, "The Angel of Music, you say? Christine, you must have been dreaming this up! There is no Angel of…"

"But Marguerite, it's true, I swear it! Do you think I would lie to you about this? Why do you think my voice has improved so greatly? How do you think I learned to sing the way I do? It was because of _him_, Marguerite, the Angel of Music!" We stopped walking and my friend turned to look at me, her eyes boring into me.

"I do not believe you," she said firmly, crossing her arms. "I expected these kinds stories from the other servant girls, Christine, but not from you. If my mother knew…" I cut her off sharply.

"Your mother _can't_ know, Marguerite! I promised the Angel that I wouldn't tell…"

"The Angel of Music does not exist, Christine!" she said in a much louder voice than I would've hoped, though it was not at all a shout. "You've been led on for all of these years by some cruel joke and I will not have a part in it." She began to walk away down another corridor towards the room she shared with Antoinette when I stopped her with my arm.

"You wanted to know what went on in the chapel, Marguerite, and I've told you. Whether you believe me or not, that is the truth by me." She stared at me for a long moment before turning on her heel and continuing down the corridor while I went up towards the main part of the palace, thinking all the while on her words, the Angel's, and the prospect of singing at the Comte's gala in front of what was sure to be hundreds of nobles from all parts. And in front of Raoul. I would sing for the man who was sure to be my future husband!

With that thought in mind, I ascended the staircase to the upper floors of the palace and retired to my room, heart aglow and mind spinning.

7


	5. Unwelcome Lords for Unwelcome Ladies

**Again, I apologize for the long hiatus…real life takes its toll on me when I least expect it and I'm sorry for not informing you that I would be away from my stories for a while. I'm working diligently (okay, _sort of_ diligently) to get a chapter of Global Desire done relatively soon, but that's what I said about this story and look what happened. Ugh.**

**I extend my thanks once again to the lovely _DonJuanTriumphs_ who is always there for me when I need something to read or if I need some inspiration. You're amazing, hon, and thank you so much for all of your support.**

**Over my hiatus, this story has been rolling around and playing itself out in my head. I've seen countless period films that have given me inspiration, read books, looked at LJ icons, etc. and I have many ideas for this story. Something I do a lot while I'm writing a story is, when a scene plays itself out in my head, I write down the few key lines that stick out and those often appear later on. One example is in Chapter 14 of Dried-Up Roses, the line "…_a shriveled shadow of the rose she used to be_…" came to me long before I actually wrote it down, but it was the random scene playing around in my head between Christine and Erik in which that line occurred that gave birth to Dried-Up Roses. I've already had one of those for this story, but it won't be until, I believe, much farther along as many things have to happen to lead up to where it ought to be.**

**Anyway, enough of the chitchat…onto Chapter Five!**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Five – Unwelcome Lords for Unwelcome Ladies**_

With two weeks until the Comte's gala, Andréa insisted upon my being outfitted in a new ball gown that would outdo all of my others and that I learn a new aria to perform for the guests. I did not put up an argument, partly because I was downright sick of arguing but also because this gala would mean time spent impressing Raoul, and that would, in turn, lead to the arrangement of our marriage. It surprised me that I had grown so attached to the Vicomte when I barely knew him, but I was nevertheless excited beyond words that such a kind and handsome man should be my husband!

Since my encounter with Marguerite in the chapel I had not seen nor heard from her or her mother. I was sure that they were busy, what with preparing to move to the opera house, but it hurt beyond words that the one friend I'd ever truly known and loved was avoiding me when she would soon be gone from my life, at least on a daily basis. Was she spiting me for believing in something otherworldly and childish, for putting my trust in an imagined spirit?

On a cold morning about a week after Raoul and the Comte's visit to the palace, I found myself wandering down to the chapel. Tried as I might to stay away for fear of revealing the Angel's existence to yet another nonbeliever, I could not keep myself from him and his kind tutelage. Most of all, however, I found myself drawn to his voice.

As was usual, I locked the door behind me and lit the candles beneath the fresco of the Virgin, but before I could say a word of prayer to Mary, the Angel's voice arose from the shadows. "_You have missed me?_"

Startled, but nonetheless excited, I replied quickly, "Of course, my Angel. How could I not?" There was silence, a long, slow, impenetrable silence in which the Angel did not speak. "Angel?" I asked, and then jumped to my feet at the sound of footsteps. Hastily extinguishing the candles, I heard the lock in the door click open, turned by a key, and I pressed myself up against the back wall, swathed in shadow.

The door opened, shedding a beam of dim light across the floor of the chapel and onto the candelabrum. I bit back a gasp of surprise when the shadow of a large male form appeared on the floor, cast by the light from the open doorway. I heard the striking of a match and the sizzling sound as the flame caught oil in a lamp and the chapel took on an orangey glow in the new light. Terrified, I flattened myself even more against the cold stone behind me, if it was possible, but I could not avoid staring straight at the large adult male in the doorway.

I looked the man over, unsure if he could discern who I was by the dim light that was cast upon me. He was tall, well over a head my superior, with a broad chest and shoulders, both covered by a long black cape that's silken lining shimmered in the light. His broad, muscular chest gave way to a taut waist that, in turn, became long, strong legs, all covered in black material. His legs melted into knee-high black leather boots that seemed to disappear into the floor that was black from his shadow. Perhaps most frightening of all was the stark, hauntingly white mask that covered the right side of his face from hairline to chin, formed to leave his lips and half his nose bare. From the hole for his eye sparkled what looked to be a brilliantly green emerald, but was none other than the iris of his eye, matched only by its twin on the left, unmasked side of his face. In his black gloved hand hung a lantern, the oil within burning and lighting the chapel.

As I scrutinized him, I did not realize that he began to advance towards me, and it was only when I felt his footsteps cause the floor beneath me to vibrate that I came to my senses and yelped in surprise. "What are you doing down here?" he said, his voice dark and menacing. When I did not respond, he took my shoulder and shook me. "Answer!"

Shaking him off, I bit back, "Unhand me! How dare you touch a princess in such a way! I'll have you..." Before I could utter a threat, the man pressed a gloved hand across my mouth.

"Silence!" he growled, and I fell immediately quiet, more intimidated than I'd ever been. "One would think you'd have learned how to treat your elders." I glared at this mysterious man, squirming about to try and get his hand away from my face without actually having to touch him. To my great surprise, he removed his hand and looked me straight in the eye, his fiercely green orbs boring into my deep brown ones. "Now that I have your attention," he said darkly, "might you inform me where I may find a woman known as Antoinette?"

"I will not let you near her!" I replied angrily, set on protecting my dear Antoinette from this fierce and controlling man. What bothered me most was that he knew of her, so she must know of him; how could such a thing have come about? "You shall not lay so much as a finger on Antoinette, you cur!"

The man took another step towards me, and we were so close that I could feel his breath in my hair. "I would not say such things if I were you, your Highness. You never know where it will get you."

"I will not accept such a threat!" I said to him, staring at him angrily. Suddenly, I felt his gloved hand grip my chin and I squealed in fright.

"Tell me where she is, you little…" I could not begin to imagine the profanity he would have called me had there not been footsteps outside the chapel at that moment. I breathed easier as the man let go of my chin and whirled around to face the doorway, only to hear him emit an audible gasp of shock. Peering around his large form, I too gasped; it was Antoinette.

She must have seen me behind the man, for in seconds I was enfolded in her arms and being pulled away, out of the chapel. "Antoinette, I…"

"Get on! Go! And stay away from her!" she cried, motioning at the man with her hands. I closed my eyes tightly and felt as he walked quickly out of the chapel, the light of the lantern following him as he went. Surprisingly, I felt Antoinette shaking against me and I held onto her even tighter.

After a few moments, when I felt that we'd both calmed, I said meekly, "Antoinette, who was that?" She drew away from me, looking into my eyes. "I won't utter a word about him, Antoinette, but I must know!" Antoinette let out a long sigh and laid a gentle hand on my arm.

"When you are ready to know about him, Christine, I will tell you. There is too much you must worry about now," she said in her most soft and motherly tone of voice. I stared blankly at her as she turned and walked from the chapel, leaving me alone in the darkness.

"Please, Antoinette!" I cried, hurrying after her. "What has he to do with you?" We nearly ran into each other as Antoinette spun around to face me. In her eyes was a fire that I almost feared.

"He is an old…acquaintance, who has not visited me in ages. There is no more you need know," Antoinette said in a level voice before walking away.

Sighing to myself, I meandered my way out of the winding passages of the servants' quarters and out into the main part of the palace. Cold light shone down from one of the high windows on the east side of the foyer, streams of pale whitish-blue gracing the marbled floor. As much as I was loathed to admit to liking anything about the palace besides the servants' quarters, I couldn't help but feel that times like this brought the subtle glory in the palace out. Little things like shadows could make anything seem just a bit more beautiful, a bit brighter, and that included the palace I had been forced to call home.

I quietly made my way up the staircase, still a little startled from my encounter in the cellar and hoping to return to my room for a short nap, when I heard my name in Andréa's shrill but cultured voice. "Christine! The music room, this instant!" Hiking up my skirts a little so I might run, I followed my aunt's call into the music room only to find her standing looking rather agitated with Sir Reyer beside her. "Christine Erica, you will be performing for nobility from all over the land in six days and you find it more important to wander about than to practice?"

"I…" I began, but Andréa was already ushering me into the room and setting me up beside Sir Reyer and his violin.

"No excuses!" she snapped, cueing Sir Reyer to begin the piece. "You will sing every day, twice a day until the Comte's gala!" Andréa turned to walk from the room when I stopped her.

"But Andréa, that much singing can't possibly be good for my voice!" I said truthfully, stating one of the things that the Angel of Music had taught me. "You wouldn't wish me to sound like a toad while performing for the Comte and his son?" I watched as my aunt thought about her response, only to see her cue Reyer, who had stopped playing, to continue the piece. Angered beyond words, I grudgingly began the piece, singing with Reyer for a good half an hour until he deemed practice for the day complete.

I had barely stepped out of the music room before Andréa had me by the arm and was dragging me down one of the many long corridors of the palace towards a wing I very rarely entered. It was beneath me at this point to protest as my aunt pulled me with her and into the royal master suite.

The master suite of the palace was one I had only been in on occasion, those occasions being the deaths of both of my parents and then when Franz had been ill four years earlier and Andréa had needed mine and Carla's help, though I was familiar enough with it to know what I would encounter as I entered it. What I was not prepared for, however, was seeing my sister in the entry room, standing proudly and bedecked from head to toe in luscious fabrics and gems. Carla's hair, a flaming brazen red, was piled atop her head and was woven in and out of an intricate golden hairpiece, and I worried she'd topple over at any second from the weight of it.

"What is _she_ doing in here?" Carla demanded of Andréa the moment she caught sight of me. It was apparent on my sister's face that she was struggling to stand and she was much paler than usual, both from her ill condition, no doubt, but she was putting on quite a show, even more so than she used to, which was quite a feat.

"I venture to ask the same of you," I replied quickly, slightly offended that my sister would be so rude to me when the room in which we both stood belonged to neither of us. That, unsurprisingly, garnered a cold stare from my aunt.

"Girls, I'll have none of this! Christine, did I not just yesterday say to you that I wanted to hear no more rude remarks? You are nigh sixteen and yet you still see fit to…" There I cut her off, which was, I have to admit, quite rude on my part.

"I still see fit to say what I think, Andréa, and that is most certainly not rude." My aunt's face twisted into a look of sheer and utter disgust at my words.

"Speaking your mind is not your place, Christine," she said coldly, turning to my sister. "Carla, dear, I've invited her in here to discuss the wonderful news, of course! What other reason could there be?" I held back another biting comment to Andréa, unsurprised but nonetheless hurt at her mentioning how little she thinks of me and my importance, even with my new place in the family as the eligible princess.

"Well there could be many reasons," Carla said, sounding both excited and sarcastic at the same time. "For one you could be telling her that she is not welcomed in my presence and never was. Or," she continued, "you might be informing her that she should think more of what she wears when appearing before her elders. But it's more likely that you'd be sending her off to live with those serving rats she calls…"

I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't. Before my sister could finish her snide remark towards Antoinette and Marguerite I had raised my hand up towards her face to slap her. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Andréa intercepted my move. "You little bitch!" Carla snapped as my aunt took a strong hold on my arm, pulling me away. "How dare you raise a hand against me! Get the little wench out of my sight!" she shrieked at my aunt, who let go of me rather forcefully and I stumbled away a few feet.

"Don't EVER speak about my friends that way!" I retorted. "They are better people than either of you will ever…"

"Carla, Christine, that is quite enough!" Andréa interrupted, sounding as though she was just out of breath. "I had hoped that this would be a happier meeting but I see that it is, I daresay, an impossibility!" Her eyes flashed in anger as she looked at each of us in turn, staring us down. "Now, I'd like to get on with what I brought you both here for, is that clear?" I nodded, and I could see that Carla did as well though she didn't look at all as though she meant it.

My aunt turned upon me and said, her voice even and cultured once more, "The physicians have told us that Carla is well enough to attend the Comte's gala." The way I looked at her must've given away that I was confused, because Andréa continued, "Since it seems that for the time being she is well and shows no signs of her condition, she will be singing as well." It took all of my lessons in etiquette to keep my mouth from falling open. After all that had happened since Carla had first taken to bed Andréa wished for her to sing in my place? _The Angel most certainly won't agree to this. But what could he do?_

I must've been silent for too long, for my aunt said forcibly, "For goodness sake, Christine, say something! Perhaps a congratulatory word or two? After all, she is your sister and she is feeling better!" My eyes fell upon Carla who was positively beaming, adjusting her posture to make herself appear taller and prouder.

Knowing how my inappropriate comments had gotten me in trouble, I, for once, held back and simply asked, "Will I still attend the gala?"

Andréa immediately replied with a, "Why, of course! I couldn't stand to let that gown of yours go to waste! Who knows when you'll attend an event like this again!" That, if nothing she'd previously said, convinced me that with my sister's newfound strength I had returned to my position of unimportance within the royal family, not at all a shock given the circumstances.

With the reoccurrence of silence, Andréa said to me, "You may go, Christine. I must tend to your sister." I needed no more incentive than that to curtsy hastily and take leave of the room; I couldn't let them see me break down into tears as I did when I reached my room. Flinging myself on the bed, I cried into the pillow, shaking. I knew quite well that my reaction wasn't entirely justified, as I had been in this position before; Carla went to the galas and I stayed home with Antoinette and Marguerite. But there was more to it than that this time around.

I thought about Raoul. I would attend his father's gala at the back of my family's party and he would entertain my sister while I'd dance in silence with some man of little importance, or with nobody at all. If my aunt and uncle's plans went through, he and Carla would marry and I would be forced to endure the sight of him in the palace day in and day out, and then one day as the king.

I thought of the Angel of Music who I had once again let down. I'd been contradictory in my words towards him, saying that I did not want the favors of the Vicomte and his father, and I would certainly pay for it if I told him about Carla's reemergence into the role I'd filled in her illness. The Angel, I had learned over the years, was goodly and kind but when his temper flared it wasn't just a flame, it was an inferno. Informing him of what had happened would surely be a spark to induce such a thing.

But mostly I thought of myself. Up until my assumption of Carla's position I hadn't thought much at all about my future beyond adolescence, about the possibility of marriage and that something just might be waiting for me beyond the palace. Now I felt myself worrying about what would become of me if Carla's health held out for long enough for her to become Raoul's wife, both a countess and a queen, and to bear heirs to both titles. I'd be nothing. Nothing, as I always had been.

There was much bustling outside my room that broke me from my state of depression. I listened carefully, making out compliments and words of congratulations out of the din of familiar voices. At that moment, Marguerite burst into my room, confirming my suspicions; Carla's timely health had been announced to the palace staff.

I felt Marguerite's hand on my arm as I sat up. "Christine?" she said, sounding solemn. "Christine, are you all right?" Turning to her, I realized that my crying was more than obvious to her and she joined me on the bed instantly.

Looking at my friend, I said quietly, "Does it look like I am?" In a moment she'd wrapped her arms around me, embracing me like the sister that she was to me. I hugged her back, crying into her shoulder. After what seemed like hours, she pulled away and wiped the tearstains from my face.

"Don't you worry," she said, sounding more like her mother than ever. "You will find someone wonderful who is worth you," Marguerite said, knowing my plight without me even voicing a word.

"It was just so…perfect!" I replied sadly, shaking my head. "Nothing could've gone wrong! And now…" I trailed off, unsure of what to say. "I barely even spoke to him, Marguerite! I never got to thank him properly for what he did for me." Marguerite was absentmindedly stroking my arm, trying to comfort me as best she could without actually being in my situation.

"For saving you that day in the city?" she asked of me, and, though it was true, I knew it was more than that.

Nodding, I added to her sentiment, "For giving me hope! I had the prospect of him and I had the world! It's all lost to me now." Marguerite shook her head.

"No," she said, taking my hand. "Your world isn't lost to you because of your witch sister and a man that you'll not have! You have me and you have my mother and we will always be here for you. You'll go to that gala with your head held high and nobody will stop you from being the amazing person that you are, the person that is my best friend in the whole of the world." I heard her cry, her tears mixing with my own as she hugged me again.

Unable to resist, I told her, "You sound like your mother!" and the tears were lost amidst our laughter.

7


	6. Noble Hands

**I must offer my sincerest apologies to you all for the unintentional hiatus in excess of 4 months. Real life got in the way, as did the temperamental Muse, and this story was put on the back burner even though I do so love it. I hope that this rather lengthy and eventful chapter will make up for some of that!**

**Of course, many thanks to my amazing friend and Beta, _DonJuanTriumphs_, for always being there for my problems, especially in bringing this story out of "the vault" of fan fiction. She's wonderful and I encourage you to read her work if you haven't already. (DJT – I propose a toast to a success rate of more than 47.2!)**

**_Phantom of the Opera_ and any characters, scenarios and songs thereof do not belong to me.**

**And a little synopsis of the most recent events to refresh your memory:** Shortly after the dinner with the Comte and Vicomte, who Christine has discovered is the man named Raoul who helped her when she journeyed into the town, Christine visits the Angel of Music in the cellars, only to be accosted by a large masked man searching for Antoinette. The future opera house ballet mistress, however, gives her no information thereof and Christine is summoned to her aunt's bedroom where she is informed that Carla is well enough to retake her place as the prospective bride for the Vicomte and will be singing at the Comte's gala. Hurt, Christine confides in Marguerite and the two share a sisterly moment on one of the last days before her and Antoinette's departure for the opera house.

**Enjoy, and please review!**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Six – Noble Hands**_

There was no use in dwelling on the losses that had befallen me. It was far below me to even argue over the decision to send Carla to the gala as the prospective bride for the Vicomte since I had not been keen on myself being that person in the first place, and how on earth would I explain to Andréa why I wanted Raoul to myself? So the last few days before the Comte's gala I spent cooking with Natasha, walking around the palace grounds, or helping Marguerite and Antoinette pack their belongings, as they would depart for the opera house two days before the gala. It had finally sunk in that I was indeed losing my two closest friends and, paired with the loss of the prospect of Raoul as my husband, it was devastating.

"Don't you let Carla hurt you, Christine," Antoinette said to me as we made our farewells. Embracing me as a mother would her daughter, she continued, "You are far lovelier than she will ever be and you do not need the Vicomte to prove that to her and to yourself." I felt tears welling up in my eyes, as well as in those of Antoinette and Marguerite and I hugged them both at the same time, not wanting to relinquish the closeness, not for one day let alone many!

"You must come visit us, you know that?" Marguerite said with anticipation. "We will get for you the grandest seat in the entire opera house!" I smiled at her, my best friend, as we embraced once more as the sisters that we were. As I pulled away, a look of recollection made itself apparent on her face. "Oh, Christine, we almost forgot your gift!" In the chaos of their departure, I had nearly forgotten that the next day was my sixteenth birthday!

"Marguerite, you do not have to…" but suddenly a small box was placed in my hands, the soft velvet covering it a smooth wine color embroidered with pale flowers. "This is beautiful!"

"Open it," Antoinette softly said, placing an arm around her daughter's shoulders and smoothing her blonde locks with her hand. With care, I slowly lifted the lid on the little velvet box to find the inside of it lined in white silk, on which rested the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen.

My eyes widened. It was surely far more than Antoinette could afford, even with her new position as ballet mistress! The setting was a square tilted on its side so it looked like a diamond, the gold clearly of the highest quality. In it was a brilliant sapphire and inlaid in that was a diamond C-shape, the white stone glittering in the light. "Antoinette I…"

"Do not start with me," she said warmly, placing a hand on my arm. "It was my mother Cecilia's and it is an honor to see it in your possession. It is a gift and a reminder of us."

"I cannot accept this, Antoinette; have you any idea how much this must cost?" I stammered, dumbfounded, holding the box out to her.

"I do not know, nor do I care," she replied, placing her hand over mine and moving it back towards me. "You matter more to me – to us – than any amount of money and I do not want you fretting over it." I slowly ran my fingers over the pendant, smooth to the touch, and then hurried to the two women before me, crying mercilessly. With them I gave up my only family, my only salvation from the harsh words and cold nature of my aunt, uncle and sister, and I no longer had Raoul to look forward to as comfort!

_Think of your Angel, Christine. He lo…he cares for you._ Shaking my head, as if it would loosen thoughts of that…emotion from my mind, I held Antoinette and Marguerite close to me once more before walking them to their carriage and bidding them farewell. It was snowing out as their carriage rolled down the drive, a light flurry of tiny flakes that clung to my hair and cloak and stung the hot tears on my face.

I turned and reentered the palace before hurrying up to my room and throwing myself upon the bed, letting go the torrent of tears that I had so well kept within me during my friends' departure. Rolling onto my back, I looked into the wardrobe at the back of my room, seeing the shimmering fabric of the gown Andréa had commissioned for me to wear to the Comte's gala. In the dim light of the windows the fabric sparkled and shone like a beacon of light from within the wardrobe. Oh, how I wished that the Vicomte could've seen me, his future bride, in such a garment! Alas, he would not look upon me so, would not think how such a lovely a gown is worthy of none other than his bride, but how even it is not worthy of such a wonderful woman. But wear it I must, and wear it I did.

The evening of the Comte's gala was cold and snowy, gusts of white particles blowing by the windows of our carriage as we made our way down the drive at his mansion. I sat beside my sister in the carriage, forced to stare either at the floor or at my aunt across from me, and I opted for the former. Carla's extravagant deep plum silk organza gown took up nearly half of the carriage and I found myself wishing I never had to lay eyes on the color again after the time spent beside her and her voluminous garment. My gown was not nearly as striking, a plain silhouette in a sparkling ivory with a wide skirt and low neckline. While Carla's hair was teased and pulled and curled and styled, mine was pinned up at the back of my head, leaving a few of my natural curls to hang down onto my neck and collarbone, the deep brown of them a striking difference to my pale skin.

We finally arrived at the steps up to the Comte's mansion and Franz stepped out first, handing his wife and my sister down before moving away to allow a footman to aid me. I did not mind his purposeful neglect of my presence; I had not looked forward to arriving with my family and this gave me an excuse to trail behind. The bitter wind stung my cheeks and face, and I hurried up the steps towards the warmth of the mansion before me.

And warm it was! As soon as I reached the landing, butlers were there to take my cloak and muffler, whisking them away to some other location. I was in awe of the hall in which I was standing, various nobility milling about around a central dance floor on which a handful of couples moved to the waltz playing, the ladies' gowns sparkling in the light of an enormous and elaborate chandelier. The palace was equally beautiful but was never alive with such grandeur as the Comte's mansion was!

I felt Andréa grab my gloved lower arm and pull me towards her as a half a dozen trumpets blared, calling silence to the hall. A squire of some sort called out, "His Royal Majesty King Franz Oliver, his wife Her Royal Majesty Queen Andréa Jacqueline, Her Royal Highness Princess Carla Sophia and Her Royal Highness Princess Christine Erica!" As he finished, the entire hall descended to one knee, bowing in the presence of their royalty. The four of us walked forward to the front of the hall where the Comte knelt with Raoul and a blonde woman who must've been the Comtesse. I felt extremely uncomfortable walking beside my sister and the presence of all of these noble people who were undoubtedly judging me was excruciating. Wanting to keep my head down but knowing I couldn't, I focused my vision straight ahead of me at the wall behind the family of the Comte. Unfortunately, that was short-lived.

As we drew close to the front of the hall, I saw out of the corner of my eye a flash of white among the sea of black and color. Allowing my eyes to temporarily shift from the wall, I nearly fell over upon seeing the masked man I'd run into in the cellars on one knee as the rest of the assembled people were. He was dressed as he had been when I'd seen him last, only his elegant cloak was absent and his garments looked a little less worn-in and much more expensive.

I focused on the wall again, trying to shake off the renewed feeling of discomfort. We finally reached our final destination before the Comte, Raoul and the Comtesse, and they rose to greet us. The Comte bowed to my uncle, as did Raoul and the Comtesse curtsied, and then we followed suit. "Your Majesty," the Comte said to Franz, "it is a pleasure to have you in attendance this evening. My wife, son and I are honored."

"Many thanks to you, Comte Philippe," Franz replied before signaling with his hand to the rest of the guests and the room immediately resumed its joyous appearance, a spectacle of color and light as people danced, mingled and enjoyed one another's company. The mood became much friendlier between my family and the Comte's as Franz spoke amiably to him and the Comtesse and Raoul approached Andréa.

"Diana, it is wonderful to see you," my aunt said, kissing the Comtesse on the cheek. "The gala is a joy!"

Smiling demurely, the Comtesse responded, "Thank you, Andréa. It was a joy to arrange!" Seeing another friend, she quietly excused herself and I watched as she left, her elegant pale pink gown catching the lights like those of the other women. She was clearly young, maybe in her mid-thirties, judging by Raoul's probable age. _Raoul…_

As I had watched the Comtesse leave, Raoul had assumed her position before Andréa and I managed to catch him saying, "Your Majesty, thank you for joining my family this evening." He bowed and I could see my aunt and sister simply beaming. I was not. Raoul rose and I swallowed deeply as his gaze flicked to me before returning to my aunt. "Your Majesty, I…"

Andréa interrupted. "My dear Vicomte, have you met my niece Carla?" she said quickly, taking my sister's arm and drawing her close. "She was unfortunately ill upon the eve of your visit to the palace, but she will be signing tonight on your father's invitation!" If I had not been so put out by the last-minute switch of myself and my sister, I would have found myself laughing at Andréa's incessant pushing for Carla to befriend the Vicomte; it was practically comical!

I was caught by surprise when Raoul moved ever so slightly towards me and began, "I was not aware…" before my aunt once again put an end to his speaking.

"You are young, child! Dance!" she said before taking Carla's hand in one of hers and Raoul's in the other, placing them together.

I looked on as Raoul grudgingly asked my sister, "Your Highness, would you do me the honor of taking this dance with me?" Carla glowed.

"Why, yes! I would be delighted!" she replied, trying to enhance her voice with false surprise to no effect. As Raoul and my sister vanished into the sea of dancers, her extravagant plum gown surprisingly lost amongst the others, Andréa firmly grasped my wrist and practically dragged me out of the hubbub and towards the side of the room. I stumbled over the long skirts of my gown and was about ready to snap at my aunt for manhandling me.

"Stay here," she said curtly, looking over my head to scout out where my uncle had gone off to with the Comte. "You're not to meddle with your sister or the Vicomte, do you hear me?" I pressed my lips together, irritated at the way I was being treated. Had I no right to any amusement for myself?

"Yes I do, now take your bloody hands off of me!" I responded coldly, pulling my gloved arm out of my aunt's grip. "I know right well that I'm not to enjoy myself save I wish to feel the wrath of you and Franz. Now go and make your marriage arrangements!" I hadn't meant to come off so strongly against Andréa, but I could not help myself. After all that had happened, I was practically livid that I was being shunted to the side at such a joyous affair.

Andréa pursed her lips. "Do not _ever_ snap at me again, Christine Erica! You will do as you're told like a proper young lady!" She turned on her heel as I allowed myself to wander to a corner and observe the scene before me, though I found it utterly hard to concentrate. My aunt's words had hurt me, as had her actions and tactics. I no longer had a chance with the Vicomte, would not be singing for the Comte's guests and was not allowed to do anything but reside in a remote part of the room; was I to have no joy in my life at all?

Tears stung the corners of my eyes but I valiantly tried to keep them at bay. Nobody, especially Andréa could see me cry, not now. I wished that Antoinette and Marguerite where with me, helping me through the gala or at home waiting for me when I returned from such a painful evening, but they were not. Their life at the opera house was routine and remotely pleasurable. Mine was not.

"You seem to appreciate remote locations, your Highness," said a low voice from behind me, and I jumped in shock. Turning, I saw the tall broad figure of the man in the mask standing not a few paces to my side. His hands were folded behind his back and I had to admit that he looked every bit a gentleman. I stood up a bit straighter as he bowed to me.

"And you, sir, seem to have a knack for catching me by surprise," I replied evenly, testing the waters. There was something familiar about him that I just couldn't place and I did not pride myself in conversing with strange men, especially those who towered over me and were far larger than myself. "Perhaps a proper introduction is in order?"

The man smiled, his teeth even and white enough to match the starkness of the mask. "I am happy to oblige you, your Highness," the man stated, taking my gloved hand and bending to press a kiss to my knuckles. He rose and continued, "Lord Erik Destler, your Highness." A strange nervousness washed over me as he confirmed that he was the man the Comte had spoken to my aunt and uncle about. I was not quite sure how to address him, the Comte's words of disapproval about him echoing in my head.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Destler," I said calmly, curtsying. "You are enjoying yourself?" I motioned to the gala beyond my once-private little corner.

"As well as I am able," Lord Destler replied, taking a step closer to me as if testing my boundaries. I allowed it. "And yourself?" I paused, not quite knowing how I was to answer him. Should I admit what little joy I found in the evening's activities? Or dare I lie to seem more gracious? "You do not, then," he stated before I could respond.

I looked at him, for the first time since the morning in the cellars allowing his vibrant green eyes to lock with my own deep brown ones. They were piercing and entrancing, a dangerous combination. "Why would you say such a thing, Lord Destler?"

"Was it not obvious in your pausing and in your eyes?" he responded, once again taking a step towards me. I could feel the heat of his body near mine now, and it started to unnerve me, but I continued to permit it. "Pray tell, your Highness, what displeases you of all the wonderment of Comte Philippe's gala?"

I swallowed. I could not possibly tell this stranger of my plights! It was not only improper and uncalled for but useless; he could not possibly have sympathy for my problems. "It is not relevant," I said, trying to remove myself from the subject. "But I thank you for your concern." Nodding to Lord Destler, I attempted to walk away, most likely to another even more secluded corner, when I felt a strong gloved hand take my own.

"Would you do a fellow lonely guest the honor of this dance, your Highness?" he said, his low smooth voice weakening my resolve. Lord Destler pulled gently on my arm, drawing me towards him with ease.

Softly, I said, again enraptured by his eyes and now by his masterful grace, "What makes you believe me to lonely, my lord?" He did not respond immediately and, rather, guided me onto the dance floor and I felt as though I was being led though a trance. He was so much greater than me in size it was as though I was a feather that he was moving, no resistance whatsoever to what he guided me to do.

"Your eyes," Lord Destler replied quietly as we joined the other couples in the dance. Preoccupied in catching onto the other dancers' rhythms, Lord Destler looked away form me for a few moments and I blinked hard, trying to regain my iron will. It was certainly not working. I saw out of the corner of my eye Andréa staring at me from across the room, though I wasn't quite certain if she knew that I could see her. I ignored her.

As Lord Destler and I moved about with the rest of the couples dancing, I felt his touch more than I had when he'd run into me in the cellars. Though it had been harsher then, the subtle pressure of his gloved hand on my waist was almost too noticeable and I couldn't help but think how perfect my small hand looked in his much larger one.

_Stop it Christine!_ I shook my head and blinked, breathing deeply and trying to locate Raoul and Carla as a means of distraction from my dance partner. Though I tried to catch sight of them, which I did, without Lord Destler noticing, I had barely a glance at the arranged couple before he said, "You are distracted, your Highness," his voice quiet but still utterly captivating. How could I be so drawn to it? I barely knew him!

I looked up at him as we moved around the dance floor, now almost terrified of my strange reactions to him. "Is there another you wish to be with?" My eyes probably spelled my shock, but I did not respond verbally. How could I? Admit I was despairing over my sister and the Vicomte? I could not! "There is."

"No!" I hurriedly interjected. Calmer, I said, "There is not."

As the dance ended and Lord Destler bowed to me, he, too, seemed distracted by something. "Excuse me, your Highness," he said quickly, briskly walking away from me and I was left to, once again, retreat to a corner. My path was intercepted, however, by my aunt.

"Christine Erica, how dare you disobey me!" she whispered harshly, not wanting the other guests to bear witness to her angry temper. "You are made aware that you are not to intermingle with the guests for your own sister's sake and yet you see fit to dance with some older man in a mask! Christine are you listening to me?" I had been paying little attention to my aunt's ranting and had instead watched as Lord Destler approached the Comtesse and conversed with her.

"Y-yes," I stammered, but Andréa continued to chide me. She did not even notice when the Comte called silence to the hall with my uncle, sister and his son beside him. I wanted to tell my aunt, if only to convince her once again that I was unimportant, that the moment of Carla's glory had come, but it seemed an impossibility.

"My guests!" the Comte said, calling the assembly's attention. "I am pleased to present some entertainment for this evening, a young woman with superb quality of voice and a lovely presence. May I present…" Before he could say Carla's name, the Comtesse hurried to her husband and whispered something to him. I could see beyond them Lord Destler standing against a wall, his arms crossed and somewhat of a smirk across his face. "My wife wishes to announce such a fine young lady. My love, the floor is yours," the Comte said, taking his wife's arm and standing slightly behind her.

My aunt still had barely noticed what was going on, but what the Comtesse said next caught both her attentions and my own. "I am very pleased to introduce her Royal Highness Princess Christine Erica!" The Comtesse motioned past my sister to me, extending her hand as invitation. I saw the horror on Carla's face and on Franz's, but Raoul, who had been rather unemotional, was smiling at me. I looked beyond the Comtesse and saw Lord Destler motion to me with his hand, telling me to go. I obeyed.

Stepping up beside the Comtesse, I said quietly, "I am honored, my lady, but…"

"No," she said firmly, placing a hand on my arm, "you simply must sing! You have been well-taught, yes?" I nodded solemnly. "Sing for us, your Highness," the Comtesse continued, curtsying to me before retreating from me along with her husband.

As I positioned myself in front of the assembled guests, I heard the loud swishing of skirts and felt my sister's hands on my arm. "She cannot sing!" she shouted at the Comte and Comtesse. "This was my evening, not this little toad's!" She twisted my arm. "Make her leave!" I was at a loss. Give the spotlight to my sister or be confident in the belief the Comtesse seemed to have in me? I looked to the Comtesse, who, like her husband, seemed utterly annoyed and offended, and over them I could see Lord Destler, the smirk still apparent on his face.

"This is an outrage!" my uncle finally interrupted my sister, coming to her side with Andréa not far behind. "We will not stand for such insolence! Come, Christine," he said, dragging Carla towards the door, the guests parting for him. He stopped. "Christine Erica, you will do what you are told!"

I swallowed deeply and adjusted my posture. Looking first to the Comte, Comtesse and Lord Destler on one side and a simply beaming Raoul on the other, I turned to the orchestra's conductor and nodded my head. I would not let myself be made a fool of, not when such a wonderful opportunity had presented itself. _Angel, please find pride in my actions!_

"_Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye! Remember me, once in a while. Please promise me you'll try! When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me!_" As I sang, I looked out at the guests, smiling from both enjoyment and from drink, and saw my aunt, uncle, and sister looking thoroughly disgusted. I allowed my eyes to quickly look at Raoul and saw, much to my joy, his perfect blue eyes full of rapture.

"_We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember stop and think of me!_" The orchestra's arrangement was sheer perfection and I felt as though I was walking on clouds. Raoul was pleased by me and my family was floored; could I have asked for anything more? I continued, "_Think of all the things we've shared and seen! Don't think about the way things might have been. Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned! Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind! Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do! There will never be a day when I won't think of you!_"

The orchestra began its interlude and I treated myself to a look at Raoul, and I could see that he was deep in thought. I saw a whisper pass his lips as he spoke to himself. "_Lotté…_" He knew? My heart raced; he recognized me! I prayed he would not speak out of turn about my adventure in the town; somehow I knew he wouldn't.

"_Flowers fade; the fruits of summer fade; they have their seasons, so do we, but please promise me that sometimes you will think…_" I paused as Sir Reyer and the Angel of Music had instructed, preparing for a dramatic ending. Taking a deep breath, I continued, "…_of me!_"

Every guest, save for my family, applauded thunderously. If it was possible I could have flown. I curtsied to my audience, then the Comte and Comtesse, and then, lastly, to Raoul who, as the applause died down and the guests returned to their activities, drew close to me, taking my hand and kissing it. "Lotté," he said softly, not relinquishing his hold on my hand.

"Christine," I corrected him, beaming.

Raoul chuckled and continued, "I knew it was you. Why did you not tell me?" I blushed and opened my mouth to respond, but he spoke instead. "No need to answer, it no longer matters," he said warmly, grinning at me. There was a brief pause before he said, "You are a wonderful singer." My cheeks grew redder. "I say that in all honesty." Raoul reached a gloved hand out and touched my cheek. "Your voice is remarkable." The orchestra began another dance as he spoke, "I would be honored if…"

"Christine Erica you will leave this instant!" Franz had come up behind me and grabbed my arm, hauling me away from Raoul before I had the opportunity to thank him properly. He did not let go until we were out in the cold on the steps of the Comte's mansion. "You are never to speak to him again, do you hear?" my uncle shouted at me. "You've all but destroyed your sisters chances, you little twit! You are confined to your room from now on unless I deem it prudent you leave it!" He turned on his heel and went down the steps ahead of me as I stood still, shocked, disbelieving and hurt.

I moved to follow him down to our awaiting carriage when I heard footsteps behind me and felt a hand on my arm. It was Raoul. "Christine, I must see you," he said, his voice calm and even but urgent. "You cannot let His Majesty forbid me from you."

"Christine!" Franz called from the carriage. I looked at him and then back at Raoul. I had not the time for words, so I gently touched Raoul's cheek with my small hand and smiled, hoping it a convincing gesture. Not a moment later, I was off down the stairs and in the carriage. The door shut behind me and we were off into the snowy night towards the palace.

I was not in the carriage a few seconds before my entire family was screeching at me. "You little bitch!" Carla cried, placing a hand firmly on my upper arm and shoving me against the carriage's inner wall. "How dare you take him from me!"

"I've taken nothing from you!" I retaliated, angry at her for accusing me of initiating the night's events when I hadn't.

"Andréa, do something about her!"

"That is taken care of," Franz replied curtly, deeming the conversation over. We rode in silence to the palace and the quiet remained even when we'd arrived at and entered it. I followed Franz's orders in going to my room, but there were no maids present to remove me from my gown, so I did so myself. I was unable, however, to remove my own corset, so, leaving my undergarments intact, I threw a white robe about my shoulders, tied it around me for modesty, and hurried down to the cellars in my stocking feet to find some help.

As I made my way into the cellars, I found myself close to the chapel and chose to detour from my initial route. I entered the chapel where I fell onto my knees, lit the candles and bowed my head in prayer to the Virgin. "Holy Mother, I thank you for what you have given me this night. I pray that you forgive me for hurting my sister, however inadvertently, and bless me with the ability to sing even more. You have been good and kind in sending me an Angel to guide me, Virgin Mother, and I pray that he knows how much I appreciate his tutelage. I…" The candles flickered out; he was here. "Angel?" I asked unto the darkness and the cold.

"_Good evening, princess,_" the Angel's voice echoed through the chapel, heavy but hauntingly beautiful at a much lower timbre than it was normally. I shivered. It felt wonderful as the reverberations of his voice coursed through my body and I allowed my mouth to crease in a smile.

"Thank you, Angel, for what your teachings have allowed me to do," I said softly, somehow knowing that he could hear me. "I have…"

"_You had the Vicomte's attentions at the gala, did you not?_" I was startled by his forwardness. "_You gained them and you are happy._" Unsure, I nodded. "_Yet you danced with another, despite your seeming devotion to the Vicomte._" I assumed that he was referring to Lord Destler.

"Y-y-you know of Lord Destler?" I replied, my voice almost a squeak. When had I gotten so nervous?

"_Quite well,_" the Angel responded, chuckling, the sound a low rumble. "_I question your taste by choosing a dashing young suitor over a man who instilled in you the feeling our Lord Destler did._" I stared at the fresco in shock. How could he possibly know how I felt when I'd danced with Lord Destler? Unless…that was impossible.

"I…" Footsteps. I whirled around in the dark as the heavy beats drew closer. Swallowing, I had no time to question the intruder before a large arm was around my waist, pulling me against a broad, hard masculine form.

"Princesses should not be playing in the cellars," Lord Destler's voice murmured in my ear. "It is unsafe, especially at night." For the first time I noticed a striking resemblance between his voice and that of my Angel. After what the Angel had said about him, I wondered if perhaps he had sent Lord Destler to me as a token of his care for me.

I swallowed. I knew that he was right, that I should fear being accosted by an unfamiliar and unmerciful figure in the night in the cellars, but I surprised myself that this current scenario was not what I feared. "You are the only person who has surprised me in the cellars," I said quietly, very aware of Lord Destler's large strong arm like a vice around my lower back. "I do not fear your presence any longer."

"You do not?" he questioned me, moving away so we could look at one another face to face. His emerald eyes sparkled even in the absence of light, his mask a haunting presence in the inky blackness.

"I do not know that I could fear you," I replied, feeling as though there was something familiar and comforting about him once again. How could I fear what my Angel had seemingly given to me for my own benefit? My mouth felt dry as I looked at Lord Destler before me, his arm holding me against his body. I realized that I had never been so close to a man in my life, especially not in a dark cellar in the dead of night. But something felt…right about it. "I feel as though I've known you all my life," I whispered into the dark.

His lips near my ear again, Lord Destler replied, "Perhaps you have." Before I could respond, I heard Franz's voice echo down the corridor, calling my name. My heart sped up; though I did not quite fear Lord Destler, I was terrified of being discovered in such a compromising position by my uncle. "Follow me," Lord Destler murmured, letting go of my waist but taking my hand in his. He led me to the fresco where he shoved his fingers into the edge of it, pulling it aside to reveal a passage beyond.

I stopped, frozen. Could I truly follow him into unknown blackness? Go with a large man to a strange destination? "I…"

"Do you trust me?" he said, his voice barely audible in the darkness. I did not know how to respond! I heard Lord Destler swallow before saying in an extremely familiar low-timbre echoing magical voice, "Do you trust your Angel?" I nodded and was pulled into the passageway as the dark figure beside me pulled the stone wall closed behind us.

11


End file.
